Chapter Text
Merlin let out a cry, and the world shook. For just a moment, time seemed to stand still. For all he knew, maybe it did. Perhaps he had that power.
He stood over Arthur’s empty, broken form, and something snapped. All of this- everything he had done- all of this chasing destiny, the blood on his hands, it was all for nothing. Arthur was dead. There was nothing left.
Merlin spread his hands.
No.
It couldn’t end like this . He refused to let it.
His magic tingled in his fingertips, building. He was Emrys. He was the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the face of the earth. If not him, then no one would be capable of what he had in mind.
But he was endlessly powerful. He was magic incarnate.
Merlin let out a scream, and everything went white.
When he opened his eyes, he stood in a forest. Not even a forest. He recognized exactly where he was, or at least his magic did, even if he didn’t, consciously. He stood at the edge of the Lake of Avalon, exactly where he had been moments before.
Except it wasn’t the Lake of Avalon. Arthur was gone, and he couldn’t sense Freya’s presence. All of that besides, the weather was completely different. It was a much milder day than it had been moments ago, and there were no clouds in the sky. Wherever he had brought himself to, it wasn’t the Camelot that he knew, or the Camelot he had just been in.
It was eerie, and he rather felt like he had missed a step while going down the stairs. He felt like he was in a dream, but pinching his forearm revealed he was not.
Merlin cocked his head, sensing more than hearing people approaching. They were far off, but he could feel their heartbeats, their steps in the leaves, the disturbances that they left behind in the world. He was more in touch with his magic, now, and more in touch with the world around him.
If he had to guess, he would say that these were bandits, but it was just a hunch.
With his magic, his hunches were seldom wrong.
He sat by the lake and waited for them to approach. After what he had just witnessed, he could use a good fight. Not that it would be a fair fight, and he could take them down with a sweep of his hands, but something about holding Arthur’s body had left a hole in his chest that he was desperate to fill.
And sure, he was fairly certain that in his grief he had just broken the natural laws of time and space, but he wasn’t ready to acknowledge that he was in some new reality just yet. That would take some serious getting used to.
He wasn’t sure exactly what he had done, but he had definitely bent reality in some way. Perhaps he had turned the clock, or even jumped into a mirror dimension-he wasn’t positive just yet. But he had certainly done something .
The bandits approached. He no longer needed his magic to hear that he was surrounded, with crossbows aimed at his head. Merlin kept staring at the water, the image of Arthur’s corpse still haunting him.
“Give us all of your coin,” growled one of the bandits.
Merlin cocked his head. “What coin?” he asked.
In truth, he probably didn’t have any on him. He hadn’t even checked. Finally, he turned around, slowly, hands in the air next to his head.
Upon noticing that he was surrounded by about twenty bandits, he grinned.
With a snap of his fingers, they all went flying, heads hitting rocks, trees, and the ground. If they weren’t all dead, then they were concussed. None of them got up again.
Merlin sighed. It was almost too easy. Scratch that, it was too easy. A challenge would be welcome.
Well , he thought as he headed towards Camelot, not this kind of challenge .
It was time to navigate a whole new Camelot, perhaps from the very beginning. Well, he had technically asked for this. Not that he was excited. But, on the other hand, so many things could be different, this time. He could listen to the dragon, and kill Mordred. Or , his brain supplied, you could not listen to the dragon even a little . Maybe he could help Morgana, and share his magic with her. She had been kind, once, before hatred had corrupted her heart. Maybe they could learn to fight together, instead of having to fight each other.
Perhaps prophecies were overrated. Or maybe not. The prophecy had come true, after all. And this time, the part that would come true would be the part about the Golden Age of Albion, and magic coming back to Camelot. He would make sure of it.
Merlin strode through the woods, shifting into a merlin as he walked. He flew towards the castle, landing on top of one of the balustrades. This time would be different.