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When Merlin woke up, everything was hazy.
It was like mist shrouded his eyes, or maybe contact lenses that had dust coating them. It wasn’t disturbing, but he must admit, it was a little bothersome. He knew one thing: He had to keep walking. With every step, the mist cleared slightly, and the memories came back to him, one at a time. The first hit him like a sledgehammer, and so did the last. He walked for ages, wincing at the pain of knowledge.
The first? You killed yourself, for the 13th time.
The last? Arthur Pendragon is dead.
The rest was filling in the gaps, of his first, magnificent life, of his magic and his friends and his family and, oh, his love. The last memory left him collapsed on the ground, unable to walk any further.
But when he opened his eyes, he found he didn’t need to. the mist was cleared, and Merlin saw he had been in a small, square room the entire time.
Strange… He thought, but he supposed the entire walk had been strange. It was still completely white, but it was only because of the walls and floor of the room. In fact, he wasn’t sure if there was any walls or floor, it seemed there was just… nothing.
Letting his eyes adjust, he looked around. There were two doors, and two plaques. They were dusty, as if no one had visited them in a long time.
The first door was red, with fraying paint at the edges of the wood. On the plaque was a small engraving of a man’s arm, and something that looked like a quote.
”Holding is comfortable and sweet, but do it for too long and your arms grow heavy.”
Merlin figured that it was symbolism, but he wasn’t sure what yet.
The second door was sky blue, and seemed to have drifts of white moving across it… like clouds. It had little holes in it, with drafts running through it. The air passing through the wood smelled of salt and sea, and grassy meadows, and calm forests. It smelled of calm. The plaque held the engraving of a wing, and another symbolistic quote.
”Flying allows you to feel the sweet wind and soft feathers, but storms are much stronger in the sky.”
He realized with a shock that the doors were a choice. Wings or arms? Freedom in flying or humanity in arms. Merlin knew with a sinking feeling that he had chosen Arms 13 times. Those 13 times never seemed to work out well for him, did they?
He took a hesitant step towards Wings. The door seemed to begin to cave in on itself, the winds becoming stronger. He stepped again, and then walked to the door.
Before he realized there was no handle, the door was torn apart by the wind and he was sucked in.
-----
Merlin was born with a tremor of clouds and a belch of rain. The gods cried as the magician was born again, knowing that he had decided on his last life, the life of Wings.
It came as a surprise to Merlin, finding that he was full grown, stark naked, and resembling something like an angel. He longed for clothes, and immediately he was dressed in his favorite outfit. A neckerchief was roped around his neck, bright red and a little too tight. He loosened it to his preferable tightness and looked around him with a gasp.
He was walking among the clouds, living in the sky. He saw many others, each with Wings of splendor, dusty brown or grey. He found himself asking a stranger what having wings were like. He had smiled warmly at him.
“It’s cool. At first, you don’t have any, because you just arrived, but they grow in white. After a while, they dull down. They look mighty ugly while the feathers are growing in, though.” He had flown off, flaring his dark chestnut wings before shooting off to some urgent place.
The next time he asked someone, it was, “Why do the wings dull?” and he was met with an impatient reply that he didn’t quite catch. He asked again and again, each time the people ignored him or were too rude to give an eligible answer. Finally, he saw someone with shining grey wings. He figured that this would be the last time he asked, then he’d stop. Thankfully, he got his answer.
“Lack of love, sweetheart. I’m afraid not many people find love, and some just…. fades away.” She muttered sadly. He looked up from his averted gaze, and was shocked by the familiar face.
“Gwen?” He asked. She jumped backwards, wings fluffed in surprise.
“Merlin? Oh, Merlin! I’m so glad we found you!” She called out in some weird code name, and immediately he found himself surrounded by friends, all greeting him. His eyes searched desperately for Arthur, but found nothing.
“No, Merlin, he isn’t here, we haven’t found him.” They smiled sadly. But soon the feeling of miserability was gone as they chatted idly, speaking of how many lives they went through before they chose Wings.
“Merlin, your feathers…. how long have you been here?” Gwaine spoke up suddenly. He was clothed, but there were rips in the back of his t-shirt to accommodate his pale brown wings.
“Um, I dunno, three hours?” He sighed. It seemed like three minutes, but he knew he’d been speaking to his friends for a long time. They looked at eachother smiling, and Merlin suddenly felt an ache in his back.
“Ow, the hell…?” He whispered, and he felt something crack in his back. It took him a moment to realize he had two extra limbs attached to him. He didn’t even know how to move them, it was instinctual. They were hunched up behind his back, coated with a light fuzz that must cover the growing feathers. He could already see small shafts sprouting out of the tender flesh and fuzz.
“Merlin, you’re feathers are sprouting in really fast! They’ll be completely here by, I dunno, nightfall?” Gwen said. He smiled excitedly, and together they chatted while his wings grew.
----
At sunset, they glanced at his wings. They were fully grown, but hidden in the shadows. Merlin was too shy to show them to anyone. Even he hadn’t seen them. They begged him to open them up and spread his wings. They told him that the first time you stretched out your wings it was the most amazing feeling you’ve ever felt. He countered that his wings would be white, like everyone else’s, and probably already dull and scrawny.
But at last, he gave in to their requests and hesitantly stood up in the clouds, facing the sunset. He opened his wings.
Gwen gasped, Gwaine gasped, Percy gasped, everyone gasped. Merlin couldn’t help but look back at them, and had to look high in the sky to finally see the end of them. They stretched out in beautiful expanse, but that wasn’t the unusual thing.
They were pure gold.
Each feather, feather shaft, secondary or not, flight and tertials, including alulas, they were all gold, a gleaming, shimmering, shining gold. They reflected off the sunlight in a moment of glory, pinks and oranges and deep purples shining on his wings. It was as if he held the sun in his wings.
“Merlin…” Gwen muttered, and he saw that she had a tear running down her eye. It seemed to be an amazed tear, but Merlin nonetheless tucked his wings away in one swift motion. Immediately the clouds seemed to grow duller, lacking the splendor that his wings owned.
“Mate, your wings are bloody gold!” Gwaine yelled in exasperation. Percival looked at him, halfway through rolling his eyes. Leon was still in awe. Merlin realized quite a few others had stopped at the sight of his wings, and he smiled to himself, a little overwhelmed.
“Uh, they’re not that special Gwaine…. right?” He chuckled. He heard an old voice rise from the small -and growing- crowd.
“Merlin? Merlin, open your wings this instant!” It wheezed. Merlin started, and his wings flared open again of their own accord, apparently surprised too.
“Gauis?” He murmured incredulously. He hadn’t even though about Gauis being there.
“My boy, look at your wings! They’re gold! This could mean… well, I’m not sure yet, but gold sometimes signifies love.” He spoke, and the crowd parted way for the elderly ex-physician.
“Yes, Merlin, it does! See, I have some on the tips of my feathers, and so does Percival, Gwaine, and Lance!” Gwen piped up. Merlin shook his head in disbelief.
“Love? The only person I have ever truly loved isn’t even here… is it possible I can still look for him?” He asked, still unbelieving of his situation. Leon looked at him sadly.
“Unfortunately, Merlin, there is no way to visit the human world.. but I’m sure one day Arthur will choose wings, and then you may be reunited once more.” He said, attempting to reassure Merlin. It barely worked, for his wings drooped and his happiness faltered.
“Oh, ok.” He said glumly. Gwen wrapped him in a hug, and after the crowd had dispersed he spoke to them more, deciding he would wait as long as possible for Arthur before gave up.
----
The waiting paid off, because after 26 years, Merlin felt a sharp feeling shoot through him. It wasn’t pain, but it wasn’t pleasant, either. It felt wracked with hurt, and longing, and a distinct feeling of love. He immediately shot up from where he had been sitting.
“Merlin, is everything alright?” Gwen asked, fretting.
“He’s here.” Merlin whispered, and took off, his golden wings flaring to life.
After 2 hours of searching, Merlin became desperate. he so badly wanted to see Arthur before his wings sprouted, to be there with him when they did. He flew around in a frenzy, grazing the clouds searching for a blonde head. After another half-hour, he heard the voice of his beloved.
“Does anyone know a guy named Merlin? He should be here, I think. Couldn’t find him in the human world.”
“Arthur!” His cry ripped through the sky, and once more it was sunset. Peculiar, the sun was, in this world. He flung out his Wings, ignoring the still awed glances of newcomers and oldtimers, running towards the man he so very loved.
“Merlin.” Arthur sighed contentedly, wrapping his arms around Merlin as best he could. Merlin tried his very hardest not to give in to his emotions, but a sob wracked him nonetheless.
“I missed you, you clotpole.” He whispered, tears running down his cheeks. Arthur returned the sorrowful look, but then it changed to one of pain.
“Arthur? Arthur, what’s wrong? Oh… it’s your wings… they’ll be sprouting, then it’ll only take a few hours for the feathers to grow in…” He breathed, saying it all in a rush. He took Arthur’s hand and carried him to higher could of more solitude. It was selfish, but he wanted them to be completely alone when his wings were fully fledged.
They talked for many hours, waiting patiently until his wings were complete. Merlin’s were draped out on the clouds lazily. He had long ago gotten used to them, but could still see Arthur fidgeting uncomfortably. Day was dawning now, and it had been many hours since the bony wings had appeared.
“I think they’re ready now.” Arthur spoke up suddenly, interrupting himself speaking about the newer ages.
“I think so too.” Merlin quipped, trying not to seem too excited. His wings, on the other hand, had no modesty, and were quivering.
Arthur slowly stood up, shaking backwards a little at the unexpected weight of the wings. Even slower, he spread out his wings to catch the morning light.
Merlin grinned from ear to ear.
“Arthur, they’re solid gold!” He cried with joy, running to him and pulling him into a hug. Their wings did a strange hug of their own, and on the high, silver-lined cloud, you could just make out two gold winged celestial beings kissing, and maybe hear high pitched chatter of excitement.
But only if you looked really hard, could you see the ebony haired one cling to the blonde desperately, as if he was his lifeline.
Maybe he was.