Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He sees them everywhere. 

It can't be helped now, Merlin supposed. With population growth, and globalization, and the fact that he lived in bloody New York City and passed by a million people a day on his commute to work, it's a wonder that he doesn't see their faces more often. But it's hard to go even a day without doing a double take. 

There, on the subway, was Leon, the curls around his face frizzing with the humidity underground--but when he turned, his face was slimmer, he was clean shaven, and it was just a man, any man, not Merlin's old friend. He stops staring and looks back at his phone, scrolling through his emails. Not-Leon gets off at the same stop as him, but they separate at the top of the stairs. 

In a cafe on 14th, the barista taking his order is Freya, only for a moment--her lips quirk in a smile, her dark hair held back in a braid--but when she hands him his coffee, her name tag reads Sam, and she's just a woman once more. He drops a fiver into the tip jar and leaves. 

When he gets into the building, the very security guard who he greets every day is Elyan, grinning at him, until he returns to Kurt. In the elevator is Mordred, discussing the weather with Gwaine, and when they exit and wave goodbye to him they are only his coworkers, professors in the Ecology department. He keeps walking towards his classroom, never even doing a double-take. 

Every day is the same. Percival, Morgana, Will, Gaius--he is even sure he sees Uther, more than once. But it's never them. 

There's one that's always worse than the rest, though. Every head of golden hair, every flash of blue eyes, every commanding voice, it is all the Once and Future King, until he shakes his head and focuses his eyes. The sunlight plays tricks on him, making him believe in things he should have given up on centuries ago. His friends, his family, they are gone. The constant reminders are only a curse if he lets himself continue to mourn. Merlin chooses, most days, to let the memories wash over him, and quickly move past them. 

Which is why he dismissed the sight of Gwen when she was standing right in front of him. He was not going to be late for class today, as his students were supposed to be taking the only exam Merlin had planned for the entire course, and he knew most of them would already be in the room waiting for him to help them go over any last minute preparations. 

“Merlin!” she called, as he rushed past her towards his classroom. He froze only because that name, his name, said like that, like it wasn't just a myth but a man, was something he hadn't heard in ages. “Merlin, wait!” He turned towards her slowly, but she was all but running towards him, ducking through the crowd. He barely had a moment to brace himself when he realized she wasn't slowing, and she hurled herself into his arms, clutching at him tightly. 

“I knew I would find you,” she breathed, and her voice, it's the same one that he heard when he dreamt of her. Merlin was frozen, hardly moving at all, but her warm breath on his shoulder was so real. His hands ran up her back, one finding her hair, the other tightening around her waist, and they found purchase rather than slipping right through. From where his nose rested against her head, he smelled lilacs and honey, like she always used to smell of. She was solid, warm against him, and if this was another trick of the universe, well. Merlin would deal with the cruel fallout later if it meant he got to have Guinevere in his arms one last time. 

He didn't say anything, just clutched her tighter to him, breathing in her smell, listening to her breaths. She seemed content to be in his arms, as well, settling in like she belonged. If he could make this moment last forever, Merlin thought, maybe he could make it through. Maybe this isn't a trick at all, but a blessing, an illusion meant to help him carry on. 

He didn't realize he was shaking until Gwen pulled back from him, “Oh, Merlin,” passing from her lips as if that name could mean anything other than pain to him. Her hands came to either side of his face, and he couldn't help but turn his head to kiss her palm, feeling the soft skin under his lips. “I'm so sorry,” she said, and he closed his eyes tightly, because this is it, the moment where she disappears and he is in ruins again. He braced for her to disappear from sight, for his hands to fall through the air as if she was never even there. He drew himself up, pulling back, and readied himself to hear her voice again, for the last time, bidding farewell. 

“Where are you going off to, in such a rush?” she asked. That… was not what he expected to hear. “Shall I join you?” He cracked one eye open to see her there, still, her hands a steady weight on his cheeks. She smiled like she knew what he was thinking, removing one hand from his face and entwining it with his own before removing the other, never allowing him a reprieve in contact. Never allowing him to believe that she's not really here, in front of him. 

“Gwen?” he asked, because he could do nothing else. 

“Yes, Merlin, it's me. I'm really here. I suppose we have much to talk about, though,” she glanced at all of the people around, “this is probably not the place to do so.” Merlin shakes his head tightly, and with it comes some clarity. He grasped her hand, pulling her closer to him, and she allowed it. 

He took a moment to look at her, noticed the lavender colored business suit she was wearing, the makeup on her face, her pin-straight hair. She was standing right in front of him, and she looked like she belonged in this world, not the last. What was going on?

“Is it… urgent, Gwen? Is it happening now?” he asked, hardly able to believe the words coming out of his mouth. 

“I don't think so. I've only just arrived, and the only thought I've had was to find you. I think it can all wait for a moment,” she told him. 

Just arrived, his mind repeated, just arrived just arrived just arrived.  

Merlin’s throat had nearly closed around his words, but he managed, “You're back? You're really--”

“I'm back, Merlin. I'm here, we're together again, it's going to be alright,” she said, and he’s not sure he believes her, but he's also not sure if it matters, because this is Gwen, his Queen, and she was back here in front of him so everything must be okay again. He shook his head again, settling. They have time, she said. They have time, and he… has an exam to proctor. A bubble of hysteria formed within him. 

“In that case,” he said, his lips already tilting up, “would you accompany me, my lady?”

∆

“Professor, you're late! You said we would have time to-” Delaney, one of his graduate students, cut off her complaint when she noticed Gwen trailing behind Merlin as he entered the room, one hand still wrapped around his arm.

“Sorry, Delaney, I know I told you we could revise beforehand. Do any of you have specific questions for me?” Merlin asked the class, settling his things on the desk. As third-year students in his program, he knew them rather well, many of them even from their undergraduate careers. He saw them almost as much in his office hours as in classes. The eleven students in this class, unfortunately, also knew him rather well, and he knew that there was a slim chance they were going to be taking the exam today because of his unexpected guest.  

“Who is that, Professor? Sorry, miss, I mean, who are you?” Evan, who sometimes reminded Merlin of Gwaine, asked Gwen. 

“Questions about the topic, Evan, not about my friends,” Merlin said, and then winced, as he had just given his students the scent of blood. He was so careful not to say things about his personal life (or lack thereof), and his own slip up was definitely about to derail them even more. 

“She's a friend, Professor? A good friend, would you say? Ma'am, I'm sorry, what was your name?” Evan asked again. Merlin looked to the rest of the class to see if they would temper him, but they all seemed closer to egging him on than putting a stop to it. He heaved a deep sigh. 

From behind him, he heard Gwen’s voice. “My name is Guinevere. You are Evan, as I understand?”

“Guinevere!” Evan crowed in delight. “Queen of Camelot! You must be the reason Prof M is so passionate about the myth of the Round Table, then?”

Gwen paused, glancing at Merlin for help. He sighed and shook his head, because he didn't know how he was supposed to introduce all of that to her in front of his students. 

“She's an old friend, one of my oldest, and I didn't know I would be running into her today. I'm sorry, everyone, but I think it's best we reschedule the exam. Next week, maybe? I will email you all when I know for sure,” Merlin said in one breath, deciding quickly that he couldn't, actually, get through an entire hour without sitting down and having a real conversation with Gwen. 

His students, every last one of them, looked upon him with absolutely bulging eyes.

“WHAT!” Delaney yelled, already scrambling through her notes.

 “You're cancelling class?” Vic asked. “You're rescheduling a test? You? Prof, are you feeling okay?” 

“Guinevere, what do I have to give you to show up more often?” Evan called out. “Your first visit and you've given me a gift like this, I could kiss you!”

Rin stood up from his seat, taking a few steps closer to the front of the class. “Professor, is something wrong?” he asked, voice much more grave than any of the others.

“Oh, for God's sake!” Merlin practically shouted. “This is my dead best friend's ex wife, everyone, and I never expected to see her again. Can I reschedule class now?” 

His outburst was met with a brief silence, before Rin spoke up again. “Do you need anything from us, Professor? Or are you okay?” The rest of the class waited, hanging on Rin's words, and Merlin deflated. He had known these kids for too long to be truly angry with them for… showing that they cared about him. His words, he knew, would cause unrest, and already Evan’s look of worship towards Gwen had turned into one of suspicion. 

“Thank you, all of you, for your concern. Gwen is a welcome presence, just a shocking one, and I need a minute to catch up with her. Would you all be okay with taking a topic from the exam and just… writing a paper on it? Ten pages, Chicago citations?” 

Slowly, his students glanced at each other, then brought their gaze back to him. “Five pages, Professor. You can't imagine the study guide I made for this exam,” Evan said, the defacto leader for this negotiation. 

Merlin, exhausted and almost ready to write the whole thing off as a loss, had a brilliant idea. 

“Did you all make study guides?” he asked. “Separately?” His students nodded one by one, and he sighed, relieved. “Great. Email them to me tonight, you've all passed. Please get out of my classroom now.”

It took a second, but it seemed that his students really did not want to look a gift horse in the mouth, quickly gathering their things and leaving the classroom. The last one out, unsurprisingly, was Evan, who took a long minute to look at Merlin and Gwen, still standing close together. 

“I'll see you tomorrow, Professor Morren,” he said, but his eyes stayed locked to Gwen's the whole time. When he left the room and closed the door behind him, Merlin chuckled a bit and collapsed into the chair behind his desk, resting his head in his hands. 

“That probably could have gone worse, actually,” he said to Gwen. He heard a chair being dragged up next to him, and then her hands were on his, pulling them away from his eyes. “I shouldn't have even come in, emailing them would've been much easier. They're too nosy for their own good. I'm not even thinking about what I'm doing.”

“They seemed very loyal to you, Merlin. It seems you haven't stopped inspiring loyalty among your friends, no matter how long it's been,” she said carefully, calmly. She wasn't at all hurt by his words, but the situation itself was starting to be overwhelming. 

“I'm sorry, Gwen, I didn't mean to say that. I don't know what's happening right now. How are you here?” 

“Oh, I’m not so sure myself, Merlin. I just… woke up, I suppose, earlier today. I remember everything before today, sort of, only it's like… a dream, I guess? I grew up in Queens in this life, was never too close to anyone, work at a law firm right now as a paralegal. I got on the train this morning, took a sip of my tea, and stayed on past my stop without even thinking about it. I just kept thinking, I have to get to him, I have to find him. I wasn't even sure who or why until I saw you, and your name came out of my mouth completely unbidden. It was like I had just come out of a trance, like my life before this wasn't real at all, until I saw you and it all came back.”

Gwen grew up in Queens. Gwen grew up. She's been here for who knows how long, and she didn't remember him. Until now. Now she remembers him, remembers everything. 

“You had to find me? Not… not him?” Merlin asks, voice very small.

“You, Merlin. There is no doubt in my mind that you were who I needed right now,” Gwen said. Her hands gripped tighter onto his, and he realized then that neither of them had let go of each other. 

“Do you know what this means, then?” he asked her. 

“I've not the slightest clue, Merlin. As far as I knew, from my life before, I had died after a long rule over Camelot. I don't remember anything beyond that, and my life here is starting to feel… less real, like something I wasn't even there for. Merlin, what’s happening?” 

“I think,” Merlin starts, “this means something is coming. Something big, something that we need everyone for. I think you're the first of all of them to wake up, Gwen, and we will find everyone else soon.”

“Merlin… what do you mean, I'm the first? Aren't… wouldn't you be the first to wake up? I had to find you, none of the others. I thought that meant… did I wake you up, then? In the hallway, there? From what that student said, your obsession with all of us, I thought you had already remembered who you used to be.”

With a jolt, Merlin realized that she didn't know. That none of his friends would know, when they came back, even those that knew of his magic. He steeled himself. 

“I've been here, Gwen, this whole time,” Merlin said. “I never died. I am Emrys, and I am immortal.”

Gwen gasped, withdrawing her hands and bringing them both to cover her mouth. He knew it had been a long time, and that Gwen had only learned of his magic after Camlann, after he left, but he had hoped she wouldn't take it badly like this. He couldn't bear it if this was what she couldn't forgive. 

“I'm sorry, Gwen, I'm so sorry. Everything I did, I promise, it was for Camelot, I swear. I would never use my magic against him, please, tell me you understand,” Merlin begged. Her eyes were growing wet, and he truly did not think that learning the scale of his power would set her off like this. “I'm still me, still Merlin, I promise. I never hurt him! I couldn't ever--” 

Gwen stopped him. “Merlin,” she said, and it was his name, his name that nobody knew, that she spoke with such surety, such pain, “Merlin, please. You've been alive all along? You've been… alone? All this time?” A tear fell from her eye, dragged down her cheek, her chin, to her neck. Merlin followed it so that he did not have to meet her eyes. His silence was an answer in itself. 

“Merlin,” she said again, his name, like it was a real thing, and his eyes stung. She gasped, because the tears were in her throat now, and he couldn't look at her or he would fall apart. “Merlin, I'm so sorry!”

Her arms were around his neck again, and his own tears began to fall as well. He sobbed, only once, into her shoulder, and she gripped him tighter than he had ever been hugged before. He stayed there, letting her soothe him, soothe herself, until his chest felt like it wasn't about to crush his heart and lungs into tiny bits. 

“How long?” Gwen asked into his hair, her fingers winding into it, petting him, calming him.

“One thousand, four hundred and sixty years, give or take a few that I don't remember,” he said. “And no, I don't want to talk about them.”

She sniffed again, straightening, and Merlin reached out to wipe the tear tracks from her face.

“I won't make you talk about them, Merlin, but I need you to know that I'm sorry. If I had known, I would've found you after Camlann, made sure you came home. I never meant for you to be alone, never wanted that for you.”

“It's my burden to bear, Gwen,” Merlin said. “If we all got what we deserved, don't you think everything would have been different?”

Gwen sighed, looking away. “Yeah, I guess it would have.”

∆

“Elyan?” Merlin asked later, when they'd moved to a coffee shop closer to his place. 

Gwen shook her head. “I'm an only child in this world, single mother that I'm not close to, no relatives that I speak to. To be honest, I felt like I was missing something my whole life, and knowing that I have a brother, well, it makes sense.”

Merlin nodded. It sounded like Gwen’s new life wasn't anything special, wasn't anything she cared for much, not when she remembered what her old life was. 

“How long do you think we have before the others arrive?” she asked. “You think Elyan will come back too?”

“I think… because you have returned, I think it could be everyone. Don't take this the wrong way, because I am more glad than you could ever know to see you again, but I really did think the prophecy spoke only of… the two of us,” Merlin said slowly. 

“Prophecy?” Gwen asked. 

“The one that spoke of the Once and Future King. It said that together, the two of us would unite Albion when we were most needed,” Merlin explained. “Oh. Oh, no. Gwen, this is terrible! Do you think I have to move back to Britain? The semester isn't even half over! I got a research grant this year! How am I supposed to tell my students that I won’t be here when they graduate? And I’ll have to create new identities for all of us, this time, not just myself, especially if we’re supposed to establish ourselves at all as different people to who we are right now, and if I can’t--”

“Whoa,” a voice interrupted from behind him. “Do you think any of that could wait until later?”

Merlin’s jaw snapped shut, and he realized that he was saying all of these things in public. With people around. Who could listen to him. He spun around in his chair to confront whoever had the misfortune of hearing Merlin’s horrible terrible plan that was going to take forever, ready to scold them for eavesdropping (even if he had been speaking rather loudly), and came up short. That is, his head came about to the stomach of the person standing behind him, and as he followed the body up to the attached head, he was greeted with none other than Percival, standing tall and proud in the middle of a coffee shop in the West Village.

“Percival!” Gwen cried from next to him, and he watched as she rose to pull him into a tight hug. Merlin stayed seated as they greeted each other, old friends, reunited again. He realized that they had known each other long after he had left them, as Gwen ruled over Camelot. Percy probably became someone she trusted greatly, as he was one of the few remaining Knights from their ingroup after the King’s death. 

And now he was here. In the West Village. With Merlin. And Gwen. He was wearing a tie. His shirt had sleeves. 

This was starting to be a lot to take in. 

Merlin's ears buzzed as he watched Gwen and Percival, but he didn't hear any of the words they were saying. It had hardly been an hour since Gwen had found him, if that, and already another of his friends had joined in on the reunion. Merlin had been waiting centuries, a millennia for this, and now it was happening too fast. How was he supposed to be who they needed? He didn't make any preparations for his destiny to start right now, he had all but given up and was building a new life instead. He was going to disappoint them. They were all going to come back and find him and expect him to know what he was doing, and he didn't know anything. How could he explain how much he had failed them?

“Merlin!” A heavy hand slapped upon his shoulder and shook him a bit. Percival. That was Percival, and he was saying his name, he was saying Merlin, because he was talking to him. Merlin looked up to meet his eyes and blinked. 

“I'm going to ruin this.” The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he winced as they registered on his friends’ faces. But he wouldn't take them back. He was going to ruin it. He couldn't do anything right. 

“What are you even talking about?” Percy asked, and Merlin knew they wouldn't understand, but he had to try to explain. 

“I was supposed to be ready, be prepared for this! It's my destiny, my purpose to do this, but it's been so long that I… I stopped trying, stopped thinking about it. I shouldn't have done that! I shouldn't have given up! Now you're both here and everyone else is going to come and you're all going to look to me for help and I don't know what I'm doing. Nothing has changed since the last time! I'm going to fail again, just like the last time!” 

Merlin's voice was shrill and hoarse, and throughout his little tirade Percy’s hand on his shoulder tightened to an almost painful level. Gwen, next to him, looked like he had just crushed her heart all over again. 

“Oh, Merlin,” she said, and he already hated the tone in her voice, the pain with which she said his name, like she thought she understood, like she knew him. Why didn't she understand the truth? Everything that happened, everything that was going to happen, it was his fault. “It doesn't matter what happened the last time. This time, we're all going to work together. It's going to be okay.”

“But you don't understand! It was my destiny, it is my destiny, I was supposed to save you all! But I couldn't do it, couldn't do anything right, and mmmhf--” Merlin's rant ended when his face was forcibly buried in a very firm chest. Percy's arms wrapped around him, hugging him tightly, holding him completely still. 

“It doesn't matter, Merlin. And you did save us, at Camlann. Camelot knew peace afterwards, I promise you. Everyone who mattered knew what you did for us. Merlin, you saved us. I don't know what we're doing here now, but back then, I know Camelot owed everything to you. The rest of this, we'll figure out together, okay?”

“But I didn't save him!” Merlin ripped himself from Percival’s arms and pulled his own tightly around himself. He could've meant anyone; Lancelot, Elyan, Gwaine, but they knew. He couldn't save the one who was supposed to save them all.  

“You're right, it doesn't matter. We really shouldn't be having this conversation here, anyways. People will think we're all crazy,” Merlin said, but he didn't really mean it. He moved to New York because the people in this city minded their own business, and they weren't really any more conspicuous in this cafe than anyone else was. Nobody was looking at them, at any rate. Regardless, he pulled himself fully from Percy and started towards the door, ignoring the meaningful looks he could feel his two friends exchanging behind his back. They wouldn't argue with him right now, and that was enough.

∆

The walk to Merlin's was short and silent, interrupted only by Gwen and Percival calling their jobs and making their excuses for the day, unwilling to go back to work yet. Merlin sent off a few emails, cancelling his only other class for the day and changing his office hours to tomorrow. 

Of course, when they arrived at Merlin's brownstone there were two figures already splayed out on the stairs. 

“Elyan! Gwaine!” Percy called out, and Gwen repeated her running and jumping routine directly into Elyan’s arms, only this time she was crying before they even embraced. Percy pulled Gwaine into a strong hug, all affection and love, none of the posturing he would expect from two former knights that were now… whatever they were now.

Merlin moved past them quickly, the door unlocking at his touch, and gestured inside. “Alright, everyone, in we go. No reason to give my neighbors reason to talk,” he said, though in his mind he was counting the minutes since Percy had arrived. It seemed that they would probably find everyone within the day, at this rate. 

Gwaine pulled away from Percival and ran up the steps, grabbing Merlin and hoisting him with him as he entered the house, giving him a little spin before placing him back on his feet. “Merls, good to see you! I can't believe all of this is happening! Is this your place?” he said, carefree and unflappable and so very Gwaine, addressing him so casually that Merlin was horrified to find tears in his eyes once more. 

“Oh, honey,” Gwen said from where she and Elyan had followed them inside, Percy pulling the door closed behind them. 

Merlin laughed, choking a bit, and shook his head. “Sorry, sorry, I'm trying to be calm about this all, it's just so much to see you all here,” he said, and he saw sympathetic looks from everyone around him. 

“You're telling me, mate. My feet lead me to the steps of some random townhouse instead of my own apartment, and I see this asshole lounging around, and everything comes back to me all at once. Gwaine and I had just barely started catching up when my damned sister showed up out of nowhere. Where did you all come from?” Elyan said, clapping Merlin on the shoulder now that he was separated from Gwen. 

“Er, a coffee shop down the block?” Merlin answered, knowing that it wasn't the answer Elyan was looking for. “Let's head inside and settle down, then we can talk.” He ushered them to take their shoes off and head up the curved staircase, to a seating area with large green plush couches and an entire wall of windows. He settled in an armchair in front of a few floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, pulling a pillow into his lap to fiddle with, while his friends looked around the room in awe. A low whistle sounded to his right. 

“Well, fuck, Merlin, if I'd known you were born into money in this life I would've tried to wake up much earlier!” Gwaine exclaimed. “Tell me, what kind of old money do your parents have? Oil? Cotton? Banking? Don't tell me, you're new money capitalists, aren't you? That would just be perfect! A servant born into modern age royalty!”

“Gwaine,” Gwen chided wearily, “did you have a different life before this? You just now realized who you used to be?” Gwaine nodded his head. “Percival, Elyan, you as well?” Both men nodded their heads as well. Merlin looked down at his hands, pulling at a frayed thread from the embroidery on the pillow. “Merlin's not like us, he didn't just wake up today. He's remembered this whole time,” she said.

“Since you were born? Like, you grew up knowing that this wasn't your first life? And you've been waiting for us this whole time?” Elyan asked. Merlin shook his head but didn't glance up from his pillow, pulling more of the loose strings out. It was going to be ruined at this point, but he really did not care. Saying it once to Gwen had been enough, and he barely even explained himself. Gwaine and Elyan died before even finding out about his magic, so he had no idea how they were going to take it. 

“No, not like that. I'm not really doing this well, but I've only just woke up and found out myself. Merlin, could you please…”

Merlin heaved a deep, loud sigh, and a whole chunk of embroidery from the pillow came off in his fingers. Gentle hands grasped his and pulled the pillow out of them, wrapping around his wrists after. Kneeled at his feet was Gwaine, face now serious. “What is it, Merls?” he asked. Merlin shook his head, refusing.

“Merlin,” he said softly, gently, like his name was something precious and fragile that he held in his hands, like it could ever be enough. 

“I'm… Gwaine, I have magic,” Merlin nearly whispered. But the room was silent, and it was loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“Okay, well, I sort of guessed at that, with the myths and all. But this isn't Camelot. You're not about to go to the pyre for it, and the whole reincarnation thing hasn't really seemed like a non-magical coincidence. What aren't you telling us?” Gwaine’s hands were still on Merlin's, his thumbs rubbing calming patterns into his pulse points. Merlin met his eyes for just a second, then looked back to their hands. 

“I guess I shouldn't say I have magic, more like… more like I am magic. I'm made up of magic, always have been, ever since you knew me in the first life. Nothing's changed since then, not really, but I’m still here, and I'm not like you because I never left. This house isn't from my family in this life, I bought it myself almost forty years ago. I haven't had any family since… well. I don't have any family, at that rate. It’s just me, like always.” 

Gwaine's thumbs had frozen on his wrists, and Merlin knew he did not want to look at whatever expression was on his face. Merlin had his suspicions that Gwaine would always have been okay with the magical part of him, but the immortal part was probably a bit harder to accept. 

“Always?” came a voice to his left, and he looked up to see Percival sink onto the corner of a couch like his strings were cut. “Since Camlann, you mean? For… for thousands of years, you've been alone?”

Merlin shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, I went back to my mum after Camlann, but she didn't… she got sick pretty soon after. Since then it's only been a few people that I've been close to, I guess. Not like in Camelot,” he swallowed, “with all of you.”

His words were met with a whoosh of air as everyone in the room exhaled at the same time. Gwaine’s hands moved from his wrists to his shoulders, and pulled him up into another hug. 

“We're here now, Merlin. I don't know why or how, but you're not alone anymore. We're all here with you,” he said. Merlin nodded shakily into his shoulder, but did not start crying again. Gwaine smelled like cheap aftershave and warm skin, which somehow wasn't that far from the leather oil and ale scent that lived in his memory. He pulled back to settle into the chair once more, but this time Gwaine followed him, perching on the arm next to him and draping an arm over his shoulders. 

“I, for one, would like to hear more about the rest of you schmucks. Are you all from New York? Or did you just happen to be here today?” Gwaine addressed the room at large. Thankfully so, as Merlin needed a moment to breathe before he fell apart all over again. This wasn't like him, to be so unsteady, and though he knew this reunion was, somehow, a new experience for him, he found he didn't like it one bit. It felt wrong, like a blade swinging over his head, waiting to fall at any moment. He stretched out his magic, feeling around him for anything wrong, and found only comfort in the presence of his friends. His shoulders slumped a bit as he relaxed back into the chair, and Gwaine's hand on his shoulder squeezed briefly twice.

“... and found Merlin right before he was about to go teach a class,” Gwen was saying. “We left to get coffee and catch up, which is when Percy found us.”

“I'm from Boston, actually,” Percival offered. “I'm here on a business trip, for a few weeks, because my company is opening a new branch here. I work for an environmental protection agency that focuses on city pollution, in the marketing department. That's… pretty much it, actually, I don't really have anything going for me, other than my job. Sort of always felt like I was just waiting for something else. I was on my way to a meeting when something told me to just go to the coffee shop, and I saw Gwen and Merlin talking, and I knew them all of a sudden, knew myself again, too. Very strange feeling, to be yourself and then learn that you're actually also someone else.” He turned his attention towards Elyan. “And you?” 

Elyan grinned. “We're practically neighbors, Merlin. I'm over in Alphabet City, in what I would say is the smallest room to ever exist, even after remembering how some of the peasants lived back in the day. I'm a personal trainer, moved here from the middle of nowhere a year back or so, after my parents passed. Oh, don't do that with your faces, they were uncaring at best and terrible at worst my whole life. Them dying and leaving me a little money was the best thing they've ever done for me. When I got the idea to move to the big city, I didn't understand what possessed me, just knew that something would come of it. Guess this is that something, eh?” He nudged Gwen, who was sitting next to him, with a grin, and she couldn't help but smile back. “Gwaine? What about you?”

Merlin turned to look at Gwaine, whose mouth was slightly open before he snapped it shut. He scrunched his nose, looked around at everyone, at Merlin, and then down at himself. 

“None of you are going to believe me when I say this,” Gwaine started, “but I'm a substance abuse counselor.”

His words caused a beat of silence, before every one of them burst into laughter. Even Gwaine himself looked amused, as it was almost ridiculous to imagine Gwaine not actively encouraging the use of alcohol. Percival had tears in his eyes, and the only thing keeping Gwen upright was Elyan, who in turn was using her to keep himself from falling over. Merlin's body sagged in relief as their giggles died down, the last of the tension seeming to leave with them. This was really it, Merlin realized. This was really them, his friends, and whatever was coming, he wouldn't be alone for it. They would be together. 

∆

Percival wanted to know how Merlin had managed to live in the same place for forty years while still looking, in his words, “like you need your parents permission to stay out past curfew.” Merlin reminded him that, technically, he was the oldest of them now, and then explained how he originally bought the place as an old man, and eventually introduced himself as his own grandson. He's only been living as his younger self for just about fifteen years.

“So you can just, like, control how old you look?” Elyan asked. 

Merlin explained that, no, he couldn't just pick any age and stay that way, but beyond a simple glamour his magic usually allowed him to present either as the oldest he had naturally aged, or how he looked now, without any effort.

“I'm pretty sure this is just the age I was after” he died, his mind provided, but his mouth said “Camlann.”

“I'm the same age I was then, too,” Gwen said. “My 29th birthday was a few weeks ago.”

“Me, too,” said Percival, “I'm 31.”

“30,” Gwaine offered, “same as the day I died.”

“I died when I was 28, back then, but I'm only 27,” Elyan said. “Guess that probably means there's some time yet before whatever’s going to happen?” 

Merlin didn't want to think about that. 

“My documents have me at about 35, right now,” Merlin said. “But I'm pretty sure I was 26 then. Mum was always a little weird about when exactly I was born.”

“You're telling me that there’re people who actually believe you're 35 right now?” Percival asked. “I could be your dad. Gwaine could be your dad.”

“Hey! Rude!” Gwaine said. 

“A lot of them have known me for a decade, Perce. People have just kind of accepted that I have a really good skincare routine, or something. Besides, it wouldn't work out well for me to try to be a tenured professor if I couldn't present a good body of work.”

“A body of work about us?” Gwen questioned, eyes slightly too considering to be asking without meaning. 

“About the early Middle Ages, for the most part, but yeah, my studies focused on the legend of the Round Table and the Matter of Britain. I almost failed my defense because of some of the liberties I took with what they called ‘historical accuracy,’ but I think I would know what was accurate more than them,” Merlin sniffed. “Bunch of sanctimonious assholes.”

“Forgive me, because I'll admit the most I know of modern lore is the Disney movie, but aren't we all technically considered like… a myth?” Elyan asked. 

“Oh, man, you're a crazy old man in the Disney movie! Oh my god, are you an old man in all of the stories?” Gwaine said through a grin. Merlin groaned, because he was an old man in nearly every retelling, and it was his own damn fault for talking to that one French writer in the 13th century while drunk off his face and in his older form. 

Merlin was about to start in on a rant about historiography and the ever-changing status of mythological figures (that would surely bore the group to tears) when their easy banter was interrupted by a deafening clatter out in the garden, and they all rushed the windows to see what it was. Merlin couldn't see anyone, the overhang blocking most of his view, which meant they were probably headed towards the back door. 

“Stay here!” he barked at his friends, before taking the steps three at a time to get downstairs. He heard footsteps behind him, because obviously his friends wouldn't actually listen to him, but he made sure he was faster. He ran through the kitchen and past the dining room, and when he got to the French doors he practically slid to a stop before them. The outdoor light wasn't on, but Merlin didn't need it, as he recognized the figure outside immediately. 

“Leon!” he cried, darting towards the keys to unlock the door, hesitant to use his magic to do so before speaking to Leon. Elyan appeared behind him, winded, with everyone else coming to a halt after. Merlin got the door unlocked and slid it open. He stepped forward to hug his old friend, but Leon stepped back.

“Wait!” he said sternly. Merlin faltered. 

“Leon?” he asked. Leon blocked the doorway, one arm behind him, one hand in front of him, like he was warding Merlin off. His face looked… afraid. Of Merlin? Was this due to his magic? Was Leon going to be the one that couldn't forgive him?

Merlin backed away, a hurt noise coming from his throat. It was his mistake to think that, because the rest of them had been accepting thus far, all of his old friends would be the same. He shouldn't have allowed himself to feel so hopeful. How could he think that everything was going to work out for him? That was not his destiny, he should've known better. In what world was Merlin going to be welcomed with open arms?

“Sorry, I'm sorry, Leon, I'm so sorry,” he said as he continued to walk backwards. He looked away, trying to indicate that he was harmless, and stepped back into whoever was standing behind him. Hands grabbed his waist to steady him, stopping him in place. 

“Leon? What's this about?” Gwen asked. She was standing next to the person steadying him, not approaching Leon at all, choosing to stay with Merlin. He shook his head, no, she shouldn't be choosing sides, he shouldn't make his friends split like this, not when they were all going to be needed, not when it was his own fault. 

“Gwen, no, it's okay, he doesn't trust me, he shouldn't, he's right. You don't need to stay with me, I won't make you, I understand, it's not--” 

One of the large hands that was holding his waist moved to his mouth, cutting off his sentence. 

“Stop, Merlin, it's okay,” Percival, owner of the hand, said from behind him. One day back, and Percy was already making a habit of shutting him up by force. At least someone would be able to stop Merlin from making a fool of himself. He tried to ignore the fact that it was definitely not his own voice speaking those words in his head, instead slumping back a bit into Percy's chest. 

“Merls, you let us handle this one. Leon, what the fuck, mate?” Gwaine said, stepping up to his other side. Great, Merlin thought, now he's going to start a fight over me. “Are you scared of Merlin? It's Merlin. What's he gonna do, insult you? He would never hurt any of us, don't even try to pretend you think otherwise.”

“What? No! Why would I be scared of Merlin?” Leon said, and the way he said his name, like it was a sure thing, settled heavily into Merlin's chest. Then the rest of what he said registered, giving him pause. Merlin was honestly a little offended. Not that he wanted his friends to be scared of him, but he could be scary! He was the most powerful warlock to ever exist! They would be right to be afraid of him! 

Leon’s hands were still in front of him, but now they looked like he was trying to calm them, like they were spooked horses. What was going on?

“I need all of you not to freak out, okay? I am here as your friend, and I need your trust that I wouldn't come here if I thought I would bring you trouble. We mean no trouble, okay? I want us all to talk before doing anything rash,” Leon said. We? Now Merlin was even more suspicious. 

“What is it, Leon? You can tell us, please,” Gwen said.

Leon shut his eyes and seemed to be steeling himself. “I came here,” he started, “with my wife.” Now Merlin was just plain confused. Did Leon think they would be mad at him for… getting married?

“Oh, Leon, that's wonderful! It's okay, our marriage was always more of mutual respect than love, I'm not angry with you,” Gwen replied, her posture becoming immediately relaxed. 

“What!” Elyan exclaimed. “You two? Were married?”

Merlin had to admit, though he had heard about the Queen remarrying for the strength of the kingdom, he didn't realize it was Leon, as he tried to avoid any news of Camelot after he left. It made sense, however, as his bloodline would have further helped her secure the throne, and any reference Merlin had ever heard of him while he was alive had been to “the Noble King,” a title that fit Leon well. His brain began to race at the implications of this and what it meant for both history and myth, and how much of Leon was remembered as himself and what he sacrificed to the legend of being King of Camelot. Merlin tried to push that spiral off for later, because there was still a more pressing matter that he had to deal with now. 

Leon was looking a little helpless. “No, that's not--I mean, Gwen--we were married, Elyan, but that's--I didn't think you'd be angry, Gwen, as I could never begrudge you for loving another. I'm probably screwing this all up. Just remember you promised me all you would stay calm, right?” He waited for their nods of approval before moving aside, just slightly, just enough for the light from inside to reveal the woman who had been standing behind him.

Who was Morgana. 

Gwen yelped. Percival gasped, letting go of Merlin in favor of moving towards Gwaine, who had completely frozen. Elyan stepped forward, as though he could protect them all against her, but Gwen grabbed his hand and pulled him back. Merlin didn't even wait, just quickly used his magic to slam the door shut, rattling the glass with the force, and lock it, uncaring that the others would see. He raised a secondary shield in front of them all, invisible but protective, and filled it with enough power that he could taste it. 

“Your wife?” he said to Leon, his voice verging on a growl, his eyes glowing a fiery gold. Morgana clutched Leon’s arm behind him, her face a stark white against her dark features, and Merlin pushed even more power into his shield, hoping she would choke on it. Leon nodded to answer Merlin's question. 

“Merlin,” Morgana said, and his name in her mouth made something within him shudder--revulsion or regret, he couldn't place it. “I'm sorry, Merlin, please let me explain.” Her voice only barely carried through the door, but Merlin had no problem hearing it. 

“Do you remember? What you did, what you made me do, do you remember?” he asked her. He could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing on end with the amount of power he was projecting into the room, but he couldn't stop even if he wanted to. 

Her eyes closed, and pain washed over her face. “I remember all of it. Elyan, Gwaine, I can't… I can't begin to apologize. I remember, but I don't understand, I don't know why I would do that. I know that she was me, but I don't think I'm her anymore.”

“I can't trust that,” Merlin said. It didn't seem to surprise Morgana, as she only nodded, her eyes locked onto Merlin's. “Do you have magic in this time?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she answered, “and I've been using it regularly my entire life. It's how we got here, my magic was pulling me to you, and I took Leon along with me. He knew this would happen, he didn't want to come, but I made him.”

Merlin stared at her. Her wide eyes were pleading, her words seemed… truthful. He hated that it felt like she was being sincere. 

“I'm not asking for forgiveness,” Morgana said. “I will not pretend that I deserve that. But I know in this lifetime I would never do any of that. Maybe it's because circumstances were different, or because this is fate giving me a second chance, I don't know. But I know that I was drawn to you the same as Leon, the same as everyone else here, and I don't know why, or how, but I want to help. Please, Merlin, let me help.”

She was asking him, only him, but he felt like the decision was not his at all. He turned to his friends, catching sight of Gwaine's face, at the overflowing rage which only barely concealed his fear. “Gwaine?” he asked. “I will tell her to leave right now if you don't want to hear her out. Any of you, I swear it, all you need to do is say the word and I will send her so far away that you won't ever have to see her again.”

His friends were silent. Gwen took a step closer to the door, trying to get a better look at Morgana, who was still half in the shadows. She reached her hand forward slightly and hit the shield that Merlin had erected around them. Her head whipped towards him lightning fast, face shocked, like she thought he would have left them unprotected with Morgana right there.

“She can't reach us in here,” Merlin explained. “The shield is impenetrable, and she's not powerful enough to overcome me. We're safe.”

Gwaine moved, then, after Merlin's explanation, to run his own hands around the shield. It was firm under his touch, unresponsive when he pushed on it, and Merlin felt the pressure against it like no more than a fly landing on his shoulder. “It'll hold, Gwaine,” he said, and Gwaine's shoulders finally dropped an inch from where they were steeled at his ears, knowing he was safe with Merlin protecting them. 

“If you're confident she can't hurt anyone, Merlin, I think we should talk,” Elyan said, his eyes tracking where Gwen was resting her hand on the shield, watching Morgana with something that was not hatred in her eyes. 

“I can bind her magic, if she allows me,” Merlin said. “Would you be willing, Morgana? I can take the bonds off once we're done.”

Morgana hesitated. “It's not that I don't want to make you all feel safe,” she responded, “but if you bind my magic, will it feel like before?” Her voice was small, fearful, and Merlin knew she was asking if it would feel like she was drowning under the weight of not being able to perform magic, of being trapped not physically, but emotionally, mentally, her very soul bound inside of her. 

He couldn't say that his bonds would feel any different to that. He bit his lip and she nodded, knowing that his answer would be terms she could not agree to. 

“I can keep you in one of these,” Merlin said, knocking on his shield with a dull thump. “It will be restrictive, but only physically. You will still feel your magic, but nothing you do will be able to escape. It will be like you're caged. Would that be preferable?”

“You don't need to cage her!” Leon cried, but Morgana moved in front of him, silencing his protest. 

“Do it, Merlin. I want to prove it to you. However long you need, whatever it takes. Just don't… don't take my magic away from me. I don't know if I could live through it.”

Merlin winced, imagining being completely cut off from his own magic. It was something he had done to others before, but only a few times had he used it as a permanent solution. It was a crueler fate than death to many, and some of them had found death preferable. Merlin tried not to dwell on them. 

“I'll need you and Leon to step away from each other, then,” Merlin directed, and Leon definitely did not like that. 

“Put me in there with her,” he said. “If you don't trust her then you can't trust me, either. I will side with her over you, I swear it. Do not make her do this alone.” Though his words were a command, his voice was pleading. This was a man driven desperate by love, and while Merlin appreciated it in most circumstances, seeing it between Leon and Morgana was throwing him off.  

“Leon, but what if she..?” Merlin couldn't finish the question, because he wasn't even sure where he was going with it. What if she killed him? They were married in this life, and it sounded like they at least remembered for long enough to discuss the implications of meeting the rest of them before they showed up here. If Morgana was going to kill Leon, she could've done it before coming here, with everyone else none the wiser. 

“I've known her, this version of her, for almost ten years, Merlin. I know she won't hurt me, and I can't bear to see her hurting. Put me in there with her or we both leave,” Leon said. 

Merlin didn't respond. Instead, he used his magic to unlock and open the door, moving the shield he had erected through the opening and shaping it around Leon and Morgana. He sealed it tightly and decided it would make everyone feel better if it was slightly visible, adding a golden shimmer to it. When he was done, it looked like the two were standing in a glass dome. 

“It will move around you, with a few feet of leeway if you don't want to be actively touching the whole time you're in there,” Merlin told them. “It is unbreakable. It won't come off until I remove it. Don't try to escape it, because it will launch whatever force you use right back at the both of you. I will be ready to stop you if you try. If either of you need to get out or get away from each other,” his gaze locked unwaveringly on Leon, “tell me, I can work something out.”

“I won't,” Leon promised. “She doesn't scare me, Merlin, same as you don't. The power to do something bad and the intent to actually do it are two very different things.” 

Morgana tested the wall by taking a large step away from Leon, bringing her closer to the entryway. The dome shaped itself around her movement, but stopped her from truly progressing until Leon moved as well. 

“Uh, you guys can come in, I guess? I'd rather we continue this outside of the view of nosy neighbors,” Merlin said with a pointed gesture towards the adjacent houses with windows facing his back garden. 

“Is that like, some kind of rich people thing?” Gwaine asked, leading the way back inside, as far from Morgana as he could get. “You mentioned it before, how you didn't want your neighbors knowing things about you. What's up with that?”

Merlin recognized his deflection, but decided to allow him to avoid the strange mix of emotions and awkwardness for a moment as they all shuffled inside and back towards the living room. 

“Knowing things about me would often mean connecting dots that I didn't want connected,” he said. “Magic still isn't something everyone in the world knows of and is accepting of. Seeing me perform magic would surely make me stand out to my neighbors, and then how long is it until they start questioning my appearance? My so-called grandfather and my inheritance? I can do a lot with magic, but I prefer to live comfortably where I can at the very least build some kind of life than have an existence on the run because the government wants to either experiment on me or take my money because they think I owe them a thousand years of taxes. No, it's better if my neighbors just think I'm some weird reclusive professor, albeit one that looks pretty young for his age.”

Gwaine accepted this, and they all settled into the room they were in before. Merlin took his same armchair, with Gwaine taking the arm and Gwen taking the chair next to him. Percival and Elyan sat on one of the couches, while Morgana and Leon sat across from them, pressed together from knee to hip. 

“A thousand years?” Morgana asked. She was not shocked, not like the others were. “So it was true, then. Emrys is really immortal.” 

Merlin tried to understand her tone, but it was just out of reach, just flat enough to be neutral. Was she containing sympathy or judgement? Did she hate him so for being what she desired to become without any effort on his part? She must know that he never wanted this, but it probably did not win him any points. He will always be the most powerful warlock to ever exist, and she will always have failed. 

“Immortal?!” Leon exclaimed, interrupting Merlin's pity party of one. Or two, if he was deciphering the look on Morgana’s face correctly. “You're immortal? Like you actually can't die?”

“Not for lack of trying, mate,” Merlin said, his grin wry. He should have remembered that none of his friends thought him funny, especially those with a protective streak a mile wide, but he had been desensitized to so much over the years that he had forgotten they would… care.

“What does that mean?” Elyan sounded so much like Gwen, in that moment, that Merlin almost laughed again. The icy mood in the room made him rethink. 

“Uh, I mean, you lot remember, I was always a bit of a clutz, always in the wrong place at the wrong time, you know? It's a wonder I survived half of the battles the knights went on!” Merlin said, barely keeping himself from stumbling over his words.

“No, I don't think that's what you meant,” Gwaine said, and damn him for not allowing Merlin's deflection when he had needed the same thing minutes before. “Merls, when?” 

Wasn't that perfect? Merlin had waited a millennia and a half to reunite with his friends, had brought his mortal enemy into his home under threat of death, and instead of discussing literally anything else all eyes were on him, waiting for him to talk about trying to die. 

“You don't want to hear this,” Merlin said, his hands wringing together tightly. “You think you do, because you care about me and all that I've been through, think it's important to understand me now, but I promise that you do not want to know.” He met each of their gazes as he spoke, his voice steady, but couldn't maintain eye contact with any one of them for long. 

“We do want to know, Merlin. We do care about you and want to hear about what you've been through. What is truly so awful that you can't bear to tell us about it?” Gwen asked. With great distress, Merlin recognized the wobble in her voice to mean she was close to crying again. Did she think she would lose him, after all of this? She should understand by now, he thought, what exactly immortal meant. 

“Oh, no, Gwen, there's nothing to even be sad about! Even if I tried to kill myself right now, it wouldn't work. Don't cry, please don't cry, I promise I can't die!”

A wretched sob came from the couch, and Merlin realized with no small amount of shock that it had come from Leon. He had wrapped both of his hands around one of Morgana's, holding it to his lips. For her part, Morgana looked almost as stoic as she had before, except where she leaned into Leon’s side, taking comfort in her husband. 

“Oh, please don't do that!” Merlin exclaimed. Percival and Elyan looked about as distraught as Leon, and Gwaine moved so he was all but suffocating Merlin in a hug, sliding somewhere between his side and back in the chair. “I'm really okay! Nothing can kill me! I've really tried everything and it hasn't--”

“STOP IT!” Gwen cried. She moved from her own chair until she was kneeling in front of him, a mirror to Gwaine's position from earlier. “Stop it, Merlin, please stop, I can't listen to this anymore. You can't sit there and tell us not to be sad because our friend tried to kill himself. You can't sit there and say you've tried everything so we shouldn't, shouldn't mourn for you, shouldn't grieve for the loss of your heart, your innocence, simply for the fact that you cannot die! It's not for fear of losing you, Merlin, it's knowing that you tried again and again to leave this world, that it was cruel enough to… to force you to stay over and over and--and that you would be in a place that is so terrible as to keep trying! Why would you keep trying?”

Merlin didn't know what to say. He knew that anything he had wouldn't be what they wanted to hear, that knowing it was his tradition to try to kill himself the same day every year would only make this harder on everyone. Telling them how many dangerous things he had done on purpose just to see if it would only work if it was an accident wouldn't disappoint them, it would hurt them. Merlin could hardly remember what it felt like to have people hurt for him. 

“I… I'm sorry, Gwen. I'm sorry that it hurts you, but you can't… you will never understand what it's like. To know that you'll live forever, that one day everything you know will be gone, but you will remain. I lost everything I ever knew, and then I lost it again, and then I lost it again, and again, and again. I can spend a hundred years knowing someone, but for all one hundred of them I will know that they will leave before I can. I've mourned ten times longer than I've ever been allowed to love, and my only option has been to keep mourning. To have that choice taken from you is a terrible thing. I have lived through horrors you could never imagine, done things so terrible you would wish me dead too, if you knew of them. Loneliness is not a strong enough word for what I've known. Solitude. Desolation. There is nobody who will ever know what it is like to be me. But if I could change one thing in all the time I've been alive, it would not have been to have you all with me. I would never wish this on another, not even if it meant I wouldn't be alone anymore. I would have died before any of you, if given the choice. Fate didn't see herself to be kind enough to allow me, so here I am, like I will always be. Forgive me if I try to escape from it every once in a while.”

The room was silent save for a few sniffles when he finished. Nobody knew what to say, and Merlin really didn't want them to say anything, anyways. 

“I think I need a moment,” he said to the silence. There was not a response. He pulled himself from between Gwaine and Gwen, standing and facing Morgana and Leon. “The enchantment will stay the same no matter where I am. If you need to get out, Leon, have someone come find me. Otherwise, I would like some time to myself, I think.”

With that he turned and left the room, choosing to go upstairs into his study. It was where he usually went when he didn't want to feel alone, but he thought the level of comfort he got from his familiar surroundings would help. He sat in the red wingback chair that he had in the corner, facing the lime washed fireplace that he lit with a flick of his fingers. The walls surrounding him were almost completely covered by bookshelves filled with books of all kinds, both ancient and modern. Above the fireplace was a tapestry that he had restored himself, depicting the knights at the Round Table. He curled inward, making himself as small as he could on the chair, clutching his arms tight around his legs, because they were real and they were part of him and they weren't going anywhere, because he needed a reminder that this, too, wouldn't last forever. The only thing that he could rely on was the fact that he would remain, even after everyone else left again. 

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, staring at what was truly a terrible representation of his old friends, before he startled at the loud signs of life coming from below him. He was sure that they hadn't sat in silence as long as he had, but they were reasonably quiet until that moment. Merlin idly wondered what caused them to become so boisterous, but couldn't be bothered to discover it himself. For the moment, he was trying to remember that he was alive, and that it was enough that for now his friends were here. He realized that this was the first time he had been alone since he had seen Gwen this morning--he hadn't even taken a break to go to the bathroom. When he strained his ears, he found that he once again couldn't hear any of his friends below him. Had they left already? Was he alone once more?

Sometimes, Merlin remembered what it was like to not be lonely. When he was playing the part of a retired old man, and he could go reminisce with others that had lived through time, talking about the good old days in a way that might have a different meaning to him, but held the same sense of nostalgia, of longing for something that they could never get back. When he was teaching his students, the ones that had come not only to respect him as a professor but to like him, to bring him desserts on holidays and tell him stories of their weekend adventures just because they wanted him to know things about them. But oftentimes he could only truly feel like he was known and loved when he remembered his first life--his mom kissing the top of his head, even when he was too tall for it; Gaius scolding him for not taking care of himself while simultaneously shoving some bread into his hand or a tincture down his throat; his king teasing him and calling him names but respecting his opinions, coming to him for advice and sharing his secrets. Sometimes, Merlin isn’t sure he ever left that time, that he wasn't just put under some kind of curse to convince him that he lost them all. 

Other times, Merlin was sure. He was certain that if he tried hard enough, he could wake up from whatever nightmare he had been sucked into. If he could figure out the counter-curse, he wouldn't have to go through this anymore. Maybe if he died in this life, he would go back to how things were before. 

It was usually his failure in the latter that snapped him out of it. He wasn't cursed, he wasn't sleeping, he wasn't even drunk or drugged; he was alive, which was much, much worse. 

∆

The knock on his study door should have alerted him to the person coming into the room, but Merlin was so lost in thought that he didn't notice until they were standing in front of him, blocking his view of the tapestry he had been staring at for what was surely too long for a normal person. Merlin found that he often didn't understand how normal people perceived time. His eyes were blurry and unfocused, so he worked at concentrating on who was in front of him. The single body morphed into two, and he was surprised to see that it was Morgana and Leon in front of him. 

“The rest of them too scared to face me after all that?” he asked. His voice, he realized, was thicker and raspier than he thought it would be. He wiped his fingers across his cheek, his hand coming away wet with tears. He must have been crying as he sat in silence, Merlin realized. It wouldn't be the first time. 

“I convinced them it would be good for me to talk to you,” Morgana replied. “Leon's only here because we're currently physically bound together, in case you forgot.”

“No, I put alerts on the shield surrounding you, so I very much remember what I did, thank you,” Merlin said. Leon's mouth twisted downward, but Morgana huffed out the tiniest of laughs that Merlin had ever heard. 

“They're not scared of you, Merlin. Scared of me still, probably, but I don't think you could scare them even if you directly threatened their lives. It's guilt they're all feeling. They know it's not your fault, and lacking anyone else to blame makes them throw all their emotions back at themselves.”

“Let me guess,” Merlin interrupted her, “you're a therapist in this life?”

Morgana did smile at that, and the way her cheeks scrunched towards her eyes made Merlin's breath catch in his throat. He hadn't thought he would ever see her smile like that, so genuine and carefree, without the weight of her secrets behind it. 

“A social worker, actually, but there's a good amount of therapy involved in social work, too, so you weren't that far off,” she said. “It's how I met Leon in this life, you know. I had a college internship at a youth center, and he was one of the firefighters who came in to do a presentation for some of the troubled kids. We fell in love, got married, established a foundation to help the same kinds of kids that brought us together. We've been living together in California for nine years. The whole time, we didn't know about our former lives. We just knew who we were in these lives, and we knew we loved each other. But I used to get nightmares,” and here she paused, her breath catching for barely a second, “and they would feel so real I didn't know how to handle them, how to handle the rage they left me with. I would wake up with this burning hatred, for anyone and anything around me, but mostly for myself. It made me do some things that I regret, but nothing moreso than when I tried to kill myself.”

The pause left room for Leon to reach out and put his hand on her shoulder, supporting her from behind without taking any of the attention from her. Merlin reached his hand out as well, staring at her so deeply he almost forgot the barrier that was between them, despite his earlier words. Morgana watched his hand bump into it before quickly retreating back to his lap. 

“I'm better now, thanks in large part to Leon and the rest of my support system. But Merlin, think about how you felt right now, when I told you that. Now magnify it by oh, a thousand? I'm probably not even close to the real number, but we all know that, for you, it would not have been half-hearted. You make decisions and you're sure about them, and we all know that means you've tried everything you can think of to die. We won't push you to talk about it, not unless you want to, but in return can you accept that it will be hard for us to hear as well?”

Merlin took a moment to think. He knew he would forgive them for their reactions, both because he wasn't really offended in the first place and also because there was probably nothing they could do that he wouldn't forgive, as long as they stayed with him. But as he ruminated over Morgana's words, one thing seemed to stick with him above all, and it was probably not what she wanted him to come away from this conversation with. 

“You talked to them? All of them?” he asked. Her smile turned wry, and she rolled her eyes the slightest bit. It was a reaction he would expect when someone was sick of his shit, except… this was Morgana. He didn't like how much she seemed to know him, though he supposed, if anyone was going to understand the punishment that was power and the coping mechanisms that came with it, there really wasn't anyone better suited than Morgana, be it this version of her or the last. 

“I wasn't sure if you knew, but it's already been three hours since you left. We wanted to give you time to yourself, but I only barely convinced them not to break down the door and throw themselves at your feet. We've discussed everything else since then, and I'll tell you that they haven't forgiven me and I haven't asked them to. I told them about the nightmares in this life, how I remembered bits and pieces but didn't know they were visions of the past, how I've tried to repent for the crimes of my old life by doing good in this one. Leon and I looked at each other earlier today and everything just snapped right into place, all of our memories returning at once, and we've worked out that it was around the same time that you and Gwen met this morning. The only reason that it took us so long to get to you was because Leon was scared you would kill me as soon as you saw me.”

“It was a valid fear! None of them reacted very well!” Leon exclaimed. 

Merlin nodded in agreement. “No, he's right. If the rest of them hadn't softened me up already and I had just, say, come across you in the street, even if you looked upon me truly unknowing, it would have been hard for me not to lash out. I'm glad you two played it safe rather than sorry.”

“See! I told you!” Leon said, justified. Morgana ignored him. 

“I did come up for a reason, and it wasn't just to tell you about my own tragic backstory. Percival and Gwen wanted to come get you as soon as he got here, and it didn't take much for Leon and Elyan to be on their side, but Gwaine and I convinced them to wait. He agreed once we explained what happened, but it's been long enough that we caved in to their pushing.”

Gwaine and Morgana agreeing on something would have been shocking at any other moment, but Merlin had stopped breathing as soon as Morgana said he. He got here, she said. He.

“Is it… him?” Merlin's voice had lost all of its strength, and only escaped his mouth through sheer force of will. 

“Oh, Merlin,” Leon whispered to himself. His voice held only pity, and Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. Had he returned while Merlin was stuck in his own wallowing?

“Lancelot,” Morgana said quickly, fast enough to stop Merlin from spiraling too much. “Lancelot is back, Merlin. He's missed you.”

Merlin swallowed, uncomprehending. It wasn't… but… “Lance?” he asked. 

“Yes, Merlin, Lancelot is here,” Leon said softly, and Merlin thought it was possible that he never moved faster than in that moment. He stood from his chair, ignoring the cramps in his legs from not moving for hours, and darted from the room and down the stairs. He was going so fast that he practically slid into the living room, only stopping when his knees slammed into the side of an armchair. 

Lancelot was sitting next to Gwen and Percival on one of the couches. He rose up and crossed the room in less than a moment, scooping Merlin into his arms without hesitation. Merlin buried his head in Lance’s shoulder, curling downwards, pulling them together as tightly as he could. Lance turned his own head inwards, pressing it against Merlin’s hair. 

“It shouldn't have been you, it was supposed to be me, I never should have allowed you--” Merlin was saying, and at the same time Lance was saying, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry you were alone, I never thought you would be left alone--”

Morgana and Leon entered the room while the two devolved into nonsense whispers and apologies, expressions of their grief for the other in sentences that the rest of them could only guess at. Merlin couldn't even be sure what he was saying any more, just that he needed Lance to hear it, and that every word Lance was saying to him was equally as important to him. 

He wasn't sure when they had sunk onto the ground, but when Lancelot pulled himself from Merlin, not too far but enough to see his face, they were both on their knees. He barely noted it, more focused on Lance's face, the tear streaks down his cheeks, the flush to his skin showing that he was alive, alive, alive. 

“Merlin,” he said, and every emotion that Merlin could remember was held in that name, said in Lance's voice. He shuddered, heavy with it, and more tears leaked from his eyes.

“How are you?” Lance asked, too sincere but too casual, and a hysterical bubble of laughter threatened to break through Merlin's tears.

“I never thought you would come back,” Merlin said instead of answering. His hands moved to Lance's shoulders, gripping tight enough that it probably hurt, but he couldn't stop himself. “I had hope, for… but never for you. For any of you. You're so real. I can't… Am I imagining this? Is it all some mad fantasy that I've created? I'm starting to think I've cracked again, gone batty, and tomorrow I'll wake up in a padded cell, medicated beyond belief, and you'll all go back to living inside my mind, and I don't think I can take it if you disappear again. Lance, please, you can't disappear again,” Merlin begged, pleaded, desperate. He couldn't draw his eyes from Lance's face, and he watched as his sadness turned to sorrow, turned to a visible ache from Merlin's words. He was sure he was crying once again, but he felt strangely separate from it. All that mattered now was keeping them all with him. 

Merlin felt a pressure encroach on the space behind him, and the magic barrier stopped itself inches from where he held onto Lance. He hunched in on himself, tugging Lance closer, and Morgana let out an irked huff. Elyan voiced “I’ve got it,” and his hands appeared around Merlin's wrists, loosening his hold. Merlin was horrified to hear a whine come out of his throat, but he couldn't let Elyan take Lance from him. He couldn't lose any of them again. 

“Easy, easy, you're hurting him, Merlin, we're just going to shift you both to the couch,” he said kindly. 

“I'm not going anywhere, Merlin,” Lancelot said, “We're all going to stay right here with you. You're not going to be alone, we're here, we're real, I promise.” Lance kept up his steady stream of comfort as he and Elyan maneuvered Merlin onto the couch that Gwen was sitting on, and she didn't hesitate to wrap him up in her arms tightly. A protest sat on his lips of how he wasn't allowed to hold Lance tight enough to hurt so she shouldn't be able to do the same to him, but he was afraid that her arms were the only thing holding him together. There was also the fact that he couldn't speak because the breaths coming out of his mouth were barely a step away from hyperventilation, and there were so many tears running down his face that he could taste them, but that was a minor detail. 

Merlin didn't lose any time, but he almost wished he had. Having to remember the solace that all of his friends gave him, that they spent minutes on hours simply being there for him, allowing him whatever comfort they could, would only be a curse for him when they were gone again. 

“I might not survive it,” Merlin said when he finally pulled himself together. The room had been close to quiet for long enough that his voice alone would have been a shock, let alone the words he was speaking. “I've been locked up, before, for going mad, you know. If you all leave again, it's either that or I really do find a way to end it all. I think it would have to be bigger than anything else I've tried, and I'm sorry that I'll have to do it. But I really do think this is my limit.” Maybe everyone would have to go with him, Merlin mused, maybe it was time for humanity to just… end. He could imagine it now, how easy it would be to take apart everything, how instantly that everything in existence could just…

“No!” Morgana cried, the volume of her voice so loud that the barrier surrounding her flashed. All eyes turned to her. She had stood and taken a single step towards Merlin, then froze. She was clutching Leon, her eyes unfocused and glowing silver. Leon didn't seem shocked and allowed her to steady herself with his arm, bringing his other arm to wrap around her waist and his forehead to rest against hers. 

“It's alright, Morgana, it's just a vision, you aren't there, you're here, you're with me, it's Leon, it's alright,” he was murmuring. The room was at a standstill until Morgana's eyes returned to their normal color. “It's alright, I'm here,” Leon continued. Her shoulders slumped, and she relaxed into Leon's embrace. His hand moved to the back of her head and stroked down her hair slowly once, twice. On the third pass, she pulled back, nodding at him in thanks. His lips quirked, not a smile, but an acknowledgement that she was okay, and he settled them back onto the couch. 

“Merlin,” Morgana said sternly, “you will not.” She spoke firmly, as if her words were not just an order, but a truth. 

“He will not what?” Gwen asked, arms still tight at Merlin's shoulders. Her tone was defensive, ready to protect Merlin from whatever she believed Morgana capable of, but there was a weary edge to her words as well. 

“He wants to destroy everything. Humanity, the planet, the whole universe, so it's all gone,” Morgana said. Her eyes didn't leave Merlin's, even when gasps of horror sounded from his friends around the room.

“It's not that I want to. You still don't get it,” Merlin sighed, frustrated. “None of you will ever… hold on a minute.” Merlin closed his eyes, pulling away from Gwen and sitting on the edge of the couch. “This will only take a moment, so bear with me,” he said, and then opened his golden eyes once more. 

∆

Merlin was sitting at a lake, skipping rocks. His bones ached, and though the rain was only light, he was soaked down to his last layer. The skin on his fingers was wrinkled enough that he fumbled the next rock he tried to throw. He watched as it splashed into the water, disturbing the surface into large ripples. 

“He won't be back today,” a voice said to his right. He turned his eyes, barely, to see a young woman sitting next to him, just as wet, half in the water where it lapped at the shore. “You should go home.”

Merlin laughed, a hearty, full sound, and it echoed back to him from the water. There was no joy in it. “Freya,” he said, his voice mocking, verging on mean. “You out of everyone should know better. I don't have a home, not anymore. Not in a century, at least.”

Freya’s expression turned pensive. “Has it been that long?” she asked. 

“Longer,” Merlin answered. “You can't feel it, but I know when you're not here. For you, when you're there, time moves differently, faster, easier. But here it moves forward slowly. It drags me with it, even when I'm trying with all my might to stay.”

“Have you considered it would be easier if you simply walked alongside it?” Freya asked. 

“You assume that I deserve, in any way, to move on. You assume wrongly, and it is nothing but idiotic for you to think like that.”

If Freya was at all offended by Merlin's words or his tone, her expression did not reflect it. Instead, her sympathy seemed to grow even further. 

“It wouldn't hurt you, Merlin, to love once more. Think of all of those you have lost. Would you rather have never known them at all?”

∆

A young boy tripped and fell in front of Merlin as he walked the path in the village. Merlin tried to catch him by the arm, but sent them both tumbling instead. When he moved to apologize, the boy broke into giggles.

“You've got eggs on you!” he said, and Merlin realized that he was, in fact, covered in smashed raw egg. Surprising himself, he laughed as well. But the boy’s mirth faltered only a moment later. 

“Master is going to be so angry,” he said quietly. The dark look on his face didn't sit right with Merlin. 

“I can help you get some more at the market,” he told the boy. His worry seemed to turn back to joy almost instantly, and he quickly grabbed onto Merlin's hand as they meandered back towards the market, eggs still dripping from their tunics. 

“What is your name?” Merlin asked. 

“Mum used to call me Lucan,” he said. “Master just calls me Boy. I liked Lucan better, but nobody but Master ever talks to me now, since Mum is gone and the Lady won't look at me. D’you want to call me Lucan, like Mum used to?” the boy asked. 

“Yeah,” Merlin said. “Yeah, I could do that.” A chunk of raw egg fell from his hair and plopped onto the ground. Lucan let out a tiny wheeze of laughter, and then--

Lucan wheezed before going silent. He was older now, closer to man than boy, and he was laying on a pile of hay in what must've been a horse barn. He was pale and his face was twisted in pain, and something about the shape of his chest seemed… wrong. 

A horse whinnied behind Merlin, and he barely thought before sending her away with his magic. She might not have meant any harm, but she was the one who did this. 

“No,” Merlin cried as he fell to his knees at Lucan's side, “please not him. Give him more time, take it from me, please.” 

Lucan watched from his spot in the hay as Merlin held his hands above his chest. Then his eyes turned a molten gold. Lucan gasped, and then began heaving, trying to cough but unable to get his lungs to work past his kicked in rib cage. Blood trickled from his mouth. Merlin panicked, his hands fluttering all over Lucan’s body, but it was no use. He made a horrible choking cough, lifted both hands towards Merlin, like he was trying to grab him, and then all the life left him at once.

∆

“You are not supposed to be here.”

Merlin’s small hut on the far outskirts of the farming village rarely saw visitors, and certainly not any that came inside at the dead of night without permission. Definitely not anyone that would tell him he didn't belong in his own home. 

“Excuse me?” he asked. The man seemed to realize what he had said, and apologies came falling out of his mouth faster than Merlin could make sense of them. “Okay, shut it, please,” he said. The man stopped, but noticeably made no move to leave. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard a peasant say this home was abandoned, but haunted,” the man explained. “I was hoping to be able to stay a while, just until things… died down a bit.”

“What, exactly, are those ‘things?’” Merlin questioned. 

The man paused, observing Merlin and his surroundings. They were plain, sure, but comfortable. He had a straw mattress in the corner, and a hearth with a pot for stew, and… well, that was it. He really didn't need much else. 

“You don't know the Earl and his family, I assume,” the man said, evading Merlin's question. Merlin allowed it, and shook his head no. “He is not kind to the serfs of his land, less so to those who look different to him. He especially does not like me, as I have worked the land far longer than he has had charge of it, and all of the other laborers would rather look to me to lead them than him. Last night their disloyalties proved too much for him, and I was accused of things I would never do. If not for the help of others I would have been put to death at sunrise. I came here hoping to avoid that. I've never been anywhere but here, and I don't know what to do beyond that. I wanted some time to sort it all out.”

Merlin took a moment to absorb that, and he found he believed every word. He did not involve himself in the lives of his neighbors as a rule, but he heard the whispers on the wind. The Earl was cruel and relentless, and he had the support of a crown that not only allowed it, but encouraged it. He made a decision rather quickly. 

“You can stay here,” he said. “I will help you leave this place, once we're prepared for it. Until then you'll have to wait.”

The man relaxed from where he had pressed himself up against the door in obvious relief. 

“Call me Croft, everyone does,” he grinned. His smile was so wide it nearly split his face, and Merlin could see why the others relied on him so easily. It was almost enough for Merlin to drop his own guard. “Thank you for this,” he said, and then--

“Thank you,” Croft breathed as Merlin wiped the sweat from his brow. Merlin shushed him gently, covering him more tightly with the thin blanket. The boils on his neck were oozing, now, and Merlin wasn't sure he had the healing skills for this. He knew for sure that nobody else did, if the rumors he heard of death across the lands held any truth at all. 

Croft had been declining for a sennight, now, but today he seemed to be in more pain than ever as he shook violently from chills. His face should never look as it did now, eyebrows pinched close, mouth twisted downward, so far from the smile that could make a friend of the fiercest foe. 

“I'll make it better,” Merlin promised, shifting so he could cradle Croft’s head in his lap. He looked up at Merlin with eyes so trusting that Merlin almost had to look away. He didn't, and Croft's expression didn't change as Merlin's eyes flashed gold. Croft's face finally relaxed, and as he exhaled his eyes closed in peace.

They did not open again. 

∆

It was the laughter that drew him in. 

Merlin was deep in the woods, far from any village he knew of, and hadn't expected to encounter a soul for at least another decade or two. But contrary to his plans, there was clearly a large group of people near him, and they had no qualms about disturbing Merlin's peace.

He peered around the branches of the tree he was behind, spying around two dozen people in a clearing. There was a rather even amount of men and women, and just a few children. He was surprised to see them kicking a ball around, jeering and teasing each other as they played a game Merlin did not know the rules to. So distracted was he by their cheerful interactions that he missed when the ball was kicked right to the base of his tree, and one of the women ran over to grab it. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Terribly sorry, we didn't know anyone else was here!”

“That's okay,” Merlin rasped, unused to using his voice. “I'm just passing through.”

He moved to leave, but the woman spoke again. 

“We are too,” she said, and while he wasn't speaking his first language, he still noticed that her words held an unplaceable accent. “We don't stay anywhere, much. You're welcome to join us, if you want to learn how to play.” She gestured to the rest of the group with the ball in her hands, and he noticed the group watching their interaction with curiosity and hope. How these people weren't suspicious of an outsider so far from civilization, Merlin could never know. He surprised himself when he said, “Okay.”

“I am Kezia,” she said. 

“Kezia,” Merlin repeated, and then-- 

“Kezia! Kezia!” he called desperately, choking through the smoke. Everything around him was burning, and anything he tried only made the flames grow more. “Kezia!” he yelled again. 

“Here!” a voice answered him, so weak he might not have heard it had he been facing another direction. He ran towards her, finding her trying to push a burning log from the leg of a man who was probably beyond help already. Merlin pulled her back from the fire, ignoring her when she started fighting him. 

“Stop!” he commanded, and only felt a small bit of guilt when she froze in place. He turned to the log and, wordlessly, used his magic to lift it and move it off the man, snuffing the small flames left on his clothing with his bare hands after. He brought his fingers to the man’s throat, checking for any sign of life, and dropped his head when he found none. Kezia wailed behind him, still unmoving.

“Kezia,” he said once more, standing from his crouch and reaching for her. At that moment, a branch from one of the burning trees fell between them, causing Merlin to flinch backwards. His split second of shock was enough for the entire tree to collapse, falling on the spot where Kezia stood, trapped by his magic and unable to escape. Merlin shouted the counter spell, but it was too late. Kezia was not there anymore. 

∆

Merlin inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to settle into his lungs, then letting out a lush cloud of blue. He reclined against the pillows and handed the pipe to the woman next to him. She took it from him but did not inhale from it, watching him steadily. 

“Go ahead,” he waved his hand, “I'm not going to ask anything of you tonight.”

“You have hired my services. You may ask something of me, if you wish,” the woman replied. 

“I can,” Merlin agreed. “I won't.”

The woman opened her mouth and quickly closed it, thinking better about objecting to this small mercy. It amused Merlin, and he decided to give her a better answer. 

“Your presence here,” he gestured around him, “in a place where women are not to enter, is off-putting to the other men with us. As long as you are with me, it both keeps them from approaching me, and proves that I have some kind of power over those that think they run the place. I can act as I wish, and nobody is going to say anything about it. The only person I must interact with is you, and, as I have paid for you, I can stop that at any moment.”

Her mouth twisted at his response, but she still didn't say anything. Her eyes tracked around the room, noticing that the rest of the patrons were very obviously not noticing them, and seemed to relax the smallest amount. She evaluated the pipe in her hand before placing it down on the dais, looking back at Merlin again. 

“Still no? Your loss,” he said with a laugh, picking the pipe up and inhaling quickly. 

“It will rot your brain,” she said. “It crawls into you and sinks its teeth in, and if you don't get it out now you never will. Don't you care that you spend all your time here?”

Merlin laughed again, shocked at her nerve. A woman of her status should never even speak to a man of his purported wealth, and yet here she was criticizing his life choices. “Tell me,” he said, “if you were me, what would you be doing instead?”

“Making something of myself,” she said instantly. “I see the way you walk around here, see the way other men stare and admire, but nobody ever approaches you, nobody even mentions your name in conversation. If I were afforded that kind of respect, everyone would know me, know what I had done to earn it, what I would do to keep it.”

“Power, then, that's what you want,” Merlin concluded. He barely noticed himself putting the pipe down as he leaned towards her. “Don't you see that they won't meet your eyes either? When I brought you from the brothel, I didn't parade you around, but I didn't go right to my quarters, either. All the men here are wondering, why? What makes you special?” He pointed directly at her, close enough to feel her breath on his fingertip. “You want power, use mine. Make the most of it. Maybe you'll make a name of yourself yet.”

She stared blankly at him, absorbing his words. He grinned and reached for the pipe once more, but she snatched it from his hand and held it just out of reach, far enough that wresting it from her grip would cause more of a scene than Merlin was willing to make. 

“Dai Li,” she said, staring into his eyes. “I have a name, and it's a good one. Maybe I will make something of yours instead.” Merlin laughed again, and then-- 

his chuckles petered out as screams filtered in through the windows. He sat up quickly, but the smoke must have gone to his head, sunk its teeth in. Before he could force himself past the dizziness, the door to his private rooms burst open, and Dai Li was there, panting. Her skirts, usually pristine, were covered in dirt and what looked like blood. 

“They're coming here,” she said, nearly breathless. “They think it's you, you have to run, they'll never let you go, they're going to make an example of you.”

Merlin slowly rose to his feet, his mind taking a moment to catch up. “Don't worry,” he said to her, “they won't be able to hurt me.” 

But she must not have closed any of the doors behind her as she ran to save Merlin from himself, because he didn't hear the soldier who came up behind her, slitting her throat open with a dagger, then stabbing it through her heart. He called for his magic, but it sat in his chest, stopped by teeth that held it still, as Dai Li crumpled to the ground. 

∆

“Freya!” Merlin roared, picking up a stone and throwing it into the lake. He hadn't been here since she told him to find a way to love again, and it had changed since he had left. But he could still feel her, deep in the lake. “Freya! Freya, show yourself! Come out here and face me!” 

Nobody appeared. Merlin shouted, falling to his knees and pounding his hands against the rocks. These, too, he threw into the water, first in fistfuls and then in great droves with his magic, releasing a scream as he hurled them forward. 

“Please,” he begged, collapsing onto his hands. Tears glistened as they streaked down his cheeks, splashing into the shallows in golden drops. 

“Lady of the Lake,” he said quietly, “I summon thee.”

Freya emerged from the lake, though she was different now. Where her cheeks were rounded and her eyes kind before, now she seemed sleek, distant, like the water had worn away at her over the centuries. 

“Emrys,” she greeted coolly. There was recognition in her eyes, but not that of a friend. This was the kind that one immortal being gave another--respect, understanding, but no love. Merlin stepped back in horror as it dawned on him that she, too, was lost to him. 

“You too?” he choked out. Freya simply continued to regard him, emotionless. 

“Okay, yeah,” he whispered. It did not matter that she could not hear him--she did not care what he had to say. Defeated, he stumbled backwards, turned around, and retreated to the woods. 

There was nothing left for him. 

∆

There was an incessant roaring in his ears. 

For a moment, that was all Merlin could remember--the low, rumbling growl that bounced around in his skull. As consciousness returned to him, so too did his memories. He remembered all of the pain, the loss, the tragedy, and heard the roaring once more. With effort he sat up and opened his eyes, and he was met with a face that he knew, but didn't at the same time. 

“Aithusa?” he croaked, confused. The dragon seemed unimpressed. 

“You have slept for too long,” a voice said, but it was not Aithusa’s, as it never could be. Merlin turned, shocked to see Kilgarrah next to him. The Great Dragon had clearly seen better days, and also seemed rather unhappy with Merlin. “It is time for you to rise, young Emrys. The world needs you now, more than ever. We let you sleep through the last war, but this one is worse. Unchecked, we fear that humanity will destroy itself.”

“So what d’you need me for, then?” Merlin grumbled. “Let them do it. Maybe then I will finally find some peace.”

“You are not alone in this world, Warlock,” Kilgarrah hissed. Steam leaked from his nose and mouth, barely hinting at the force of his rage. “You might have no love left for humankind, but they are still your responsibility.”

“My responsibility?” Merlin scoffed, his anger rising to meet Kilgarrah's. “What have they ever done for me? What has humanity ever given me, other than hurt? Haven't I done enough for them?!”

“You have not! You were made to give everything to them, and instead you cursed yourself into resting for a hundred years! Do you even know the things they have invented in attempts to destroy each other? You were supposed to be there to stop it! You have failed, Merlin, and you will have to work every day to repent if you still want to see your prophesized King return.”

Merlin reacted as if those words were a physical blow, stumbling and pressing a hand to his chest.

“What?” he asked sharply. “You mean he might still return?”

“Not if you don't fix this!” Kilgarrah roared. “The world is on the precipice of annihilation, and you are the only one with the power to stop it! And if you thought your years before this were miserable, let me tell you, boy, it will not compare to what will come if you can't--” 

Aithusa cut him off with a low growl, stalking forward until she was between Merlin and Kilgarrah. The noise Kilgarrah let out was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. 

“Coddle him if you must, but he knows what he has to do. They have weapons unlike anything you've seen before, boy, and it will take all that you are to stop them. You'll do well not to disappoint me this time. Your destiny depends on it.”

With that, Kilgarrah turned and took off into the sky, faltering once before disappearing from view. Merlin knew without a doubt that it was the last time he would ever see the dragon.

Unlike with the others, he couldn't say that it upset him. It was just one more goodbye he would never have to say. 

∆

“Do you understand, now?” Merlin asked the room as they all came back to themselves, having seen some of his most painful losses. “I have already given up. Time and again I have lost, and this is my last chance.”

Silence was his only answer, as his friends digested the thousand years of grieving that he had just subjected them to.

“I'll do it,” Morgana said suddenly. Her eyes were clear, though her cheeks were still marred with tear tracks. “If it seems like we're all going to die, but you won't, I will kill you. I will find a way, Merlin, I promise. Just say you won't destroy them all, please.” Instead of watching her, all eyes were on him, and he realized he had truly scared them with his thoughts of devastation. 

“You promise?” he asked. He hated that his voice was so small, but he couldn't stop the hope from breaking through. He had never known another with Morgana's determination and power, and if they worked together instead of against each other, he thought it just might work. 

“I promise, Merlin, I swear it on my life. On Leon's. Whether or not you succeed in your destiny, this will be the end for you.” While these words would have been threatening from Morgana in her first life, in this one they were comforting. Her eyes did not leave his as she made her vow, and Merlin could feel the past century of fear slide off his back from where it had been sitting on his shoulders, whispering in his ears, taunting him the longer he went without any sign of death. This is it, he thought to himself, giddy. This is finally the end.

The glowing barrier around Morgana and Leon disappeared, gone between one blink and the next. 

Exclamations of surprise sounded from around him, but his gaze was locked on Morgana, and hers on him. More than anything, the honesty she was showing right now was enough for him to trust her. 

“Just like that, really? She threatened to kill you and you let her loose on the world?” Percy asked, incredulous. 

“It wasn't a threat,” Merlin said. He didn't elaborate. Leon used his newfound freedom to stand and begin pulling the others into hugs, and Merlin slowly approached where Morgana remained in her spot on the couch. 

“I'm sorry,” Merlin said, quiet enough to go unheard over the others. “I never wanted it to end how it did. If I knew then what I do now, I would've done everything differently.”

“Me, too,” Morgana said. “I think we both suffered from the situation we were in. We're different people now, though, aren't we?”

Merlin took a beat. Morgana was different, that was true, but was he? He didn't have any kind of reincarnation to truly change him to his core like she did, but he did have a thousand or so years of consistent slow change under his belt. 

“Yeah,” he said in response, “I suppose we are.”

∆

Nobody wanted to separate, but night was long past risen and their hunger was past the point of ignoring now.

Merlin shuffled them all into the kitchen before remembering the absolute desolate state he kept it in, as feeding himself was typically not on his list of priorities. He poked his head into a few cupboards and his fridge, heard a chorus of stomachs growling behind him, and dropped his head in defeat. 

“I can… order pizza?” he offered.

So Merlin ordered a ridiculous amount of pizza. When the food arrived everyone cheered, and they gathered in the dining room to eat. It was a circular room with a large round stone table in the middle, because Merlin was truly sentimental at heart, and had plenty of spots for them all to sit comfortably. It did not escape Merlin that the seat to his left remained empty. 

“So that last memory you showed us,” Gwaine started, hushing Percival when he elbowed him sharply and whispered something about tact. Merlin poorly hid his smile at their antics. “World War I?”

“The second one,” Merlin corrected. “Weapons of mass destruction, and all that. Kilgarrah was… concerned at the scale he anticipated. Rightfully so, even with my magic I couldn't fully contain a nuclear bomb.”

If Gwaine thought he was about to start a good conversation, Merlin for sure killed it. The silence was nearly audible after he spoke. 

“Kilgarrah is the name of the other dragon?” Gwen asked, valiantly trying to save the mood. “The bigger one?”

“Yeah, that's him. Right bastard, unfortunately. I felt when he died, a decade or so back. He's the one that told me of the prophecy in the first place.”

“And Aithusa?” Morgana asked, voice gentle. Merlin grimaced when he remembered the circumstances from which she knew the other dragon.

“Aithusa is well. My hatchling,” he explained to the others. He saw Elyan mouth hatchling? at Lancelot, who only shrugged. “I woke her when I gave her a name. I don't think she's the last dragon, because I've always felt a few others, but she's the only other one I still know personally. I've never felt the need to call on any other.”

“You know dragons… personally?” Leon asked, mouth agape--making for a disturbing sight, as he had been shoveling pizza down his throat as quickly as he could until that moment. Morgana reached over and closed his mouth for him with her hand. 

“Merlin's the last Dragon Lord,” she said, matter of fact. Merlin gave her a sharp look, but she only shrugged. “Sorry, but it really shouldn't surprise anyone here more than you being the most powerful immortal sorcerer to ever exist.”

Someone was sputtering across from him, but Merlin's blush was high in his cheeks, and he turned his gaze to the single slice of pizza still sitting on his plate to avoid looking anyone in the eye.

“He, uh, didn't tell them that part,” Lancelot surmised. He rubbed Merlin's shoulder comfortingly from his seat next to him. 

“Oh,” Morgana said, throwing her hands up, “were you all paying attention to the past few hours? Learn to read between the lines, please! The prophecised warlock who would bring magic back to the world! The only immortal to ever walk the planet! He single handedly defeated a whole army, and most of you were still there to see it! Is anyone really shocked to hear that he's that powerful?”

“I… I guess not,” Leon said. A rumble of agreement circled around the table, and they drifted back into that dreaded silence.

Gwaine broke it again when he asked, “Opium?”

“Gwaine!” multiple voices said at once. Even Morgana was chastising him. Merlin, though--Merlin laughed. Merlin laughed so hard he could feel the others start to laugh too, if only in confusion at his hysteria. 

“You really are a substance abuse counselor!” he said through his giggles. 

“He's a what?” Leon said, as Lancelot choked on his drink. Elyan slapped him on the back until he stopped coughing. Merlin only laughed more, until tears were leaking out of his eyes. 

“Yeah yeah,” Gwaine said loudly, to be heard over everyone laughing at him, “laugh it up. When you're finished we're talking about the opium.” But he was smiling, too. When everyone eventually did calm down, Gwaine prodded Merlin into explaining. 

“It was an escape, Gwaine, same as everything else. I'm not doing it anymore, nor am I smoking crack or shooting heroin or anything like that. I don't currently have a drug problem.” Merlin rolled his eyes when he thought about it--it wasn't like it could really do any harm to him, really, so he didn't want Gwaine making a big deal of it. 

“But you did,” Gwaine pressed. The humor had petered out when he continued to pursue the topic, and Merlin figured it was better to answer him then allow him to push it too far. 

“I've had just about every vice on the planet, yes. You get bored after, oh, five hundred years or so. I sought drugs out on purpose, drank to excess every day, combined things that could kill another man just to feel the result. But I don't anymore. I haven't since I woke up in the 40s. Other than the occasional cigarette I am completely clean.”

“Cigarettes!” Gwen exclaimed, and immediately blushed. “Sorry, sorry, I realize now that you probably can't get lung cancer, but those things will kill you. Well, not you, in the specific sense, but you, in the general sense. In the everyone except you sense. In the I don't like them sense.” Her tone was firm by then, her eyes boring into Merlin's, imploring. From the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Leon smirk behind the glass he was drinking from, but he found he couldn't break the eye contact Gwen had him trapped in. 

“I, uh, won't smoke cigarettes anymore?” he said. Gwen’s chin tilted down, and the corners of her mouth pinched the tiniest bit. Merlin still did not look away. 

“I'll quit smoking?” he tried again. Gwen leaned back in her chair with a thunk, smiling, and Merlin found that he had subconsciously leaned towards her as well. He exhaled deeply as he relaxed again, free from the trance she seemed to catch him in. 

“Was that a Queen thing?” Lancelot asked, staring at Gwen in awe. “I've never seen anyone shut him up like that before.”

“Hey!” Merlin said, but they all ignored him. Rude. 

“It's a big sister thing!” Elyan exclaimed gleefully. “Looks to be perfected now, but that was exactly what she used to do to me when we were kids. She's mothering you, Merlin!”

“Hey!” Merlin said again, but they all ignored him, again.

“Definitely something she perfected as Queen. Nobody would ever say she ruled with an iron fist, but a disappointed glare sure did the trick,” Leon said. 

Gwen rolled her eyes. “I do not glare,” she corrected, but she seemed pleased all the same. When nobody said anything else, they lapsed into silence once more. Glances were exchanged, eye contact held, as if everyone were daring the others to bring it up. 

Merlin sighed deeply. It wasn't that they felt awkward around each other, but they were all so obviously avoiding the elephant in the room that it was making it hard to go on pretending like any of this was normal. He figured it would be up to him to bite the bullet. 

“I don't think he's coming back tonight,” Merlin said, and the tension in the room deflated like an old balloon. “It's been hours, and you all showed up so close to each other that I think it would've happened by now. Either he hasn't remembered yet or it's too late for him to try to get here now. Whichever one, we should stop holding our breath.”

He could feel them all watching him, but he turned to Morgana instead. Her expression was neutral, safe, like he knew it would be. He's couldn't handle the sympathy the others would try to force upon him right now. 

“Would you and Leon like to stay the night? I can't imagine you want to go all the way to the other coast again in the same day, and I've got plenty of beds here.” He waited until she nodded in thanks, then turned to face the others. “That goes for all of you, too. There's more than enough room here for you all, you won't even have to sleep on a couch or a pallet. If you don't want to go back to your own tonight, that is, you don't have to stay.”

“And miss the chance to live out my millionaire fantasy? You wish, Merls. Which one of the rooms has the best view?” Gwaine said. His jovial tone was only slightly forced, and Merlin guessed that he had been hoping to see their King tonight as well. 

“Guess you'll be going in the basement, then,” Merlin said. 

∆

He set each of them up in their own rooms, only Leon and Morgana sharing. He did end up giving Gwaine the basement, but it actually had a lovely view of the patio and garden, so he didn't complain too much. It was also, importantly, four floors away from the room Morgana would be in, with himself as a deterrent between them, which he knew would make Gwaine feel just a bit safer. 

Lancelot he brought to his own room, tried to relinquish the bed, and was told in no uncertain terms that they would be sharing. It was a big bed, and he really didn't mind sharing with Lance, so he relented quickly and of his own free will. Definitely without the use of coercion or threats. 

Besides, Merlin probably wasn't even going to sleep tonight. He couldn't imagine resting when he had so much to think about, and he would probably wander back to his study or the garden after Lance had fallen asleep. Not that he would be saying any of that to him, of course. It was a fight that Merlin didn't want to have with any of his friends, but especially not Lance. 

“You're not eating,” Lance said when they had settled in, both tucked tightly under the covers. 

Merlin turned toward him to find that Lance was already laying on his side, staring at Merlin's hands where they rested above the quilt. He didn't say anything. He hadn't thought anyone noticed. Nobody ever had before. 

“The piece of pizza on your plate stayed there for all of dinner, not a single bite taken by the end,” Lance continued, undeterred. “You threw it away when you cleaned up without even thinking about it. You're skin and bones, Merlin, why aren't you eating?”

Merlin opened his mouth to reply, but the words stuck in his throat. How exactly does one tell their best friend that they're not really human enough for things like eating to matter?

“Is it the… Is it the death thing? Is it you trying to see if you can only die if it's long and slow? I can't possibly think of another reason you would starve yourself, Merlin. You have to know it's not good for you. I'm worried.”

“Don't,” Merlin replied curtly. He winced when he remembered this was Lancelot, the only person who truly knew him as he once was, and softened his tone as he continued. “You shouldn't worry, Lance, it's nothing like that. I don't… it's not that I don't want to, it's that I don't really need to. My body just… fixes itself, I guess, feeds off the magic. I don't enjoy it, anyways, always feels like a chore to have to feed myself. I stopped seeing the point of it when I realized it wasn't really necessary for me.”

Lancelot made a noise that sounded a lot like a whimper. Merlin raised an eyebrow in response. 

“You’re not even listening to yourself. You've basically given yourself a magical feeding tube to get by on the bare minimum. If you didn't need food your body wouldn't have to fix itself, because you would already be right. You're not… you're not right, Merlin, just because you've been surviving this way for so long. You deserve better than that.”

Merlin hadn't really thought of it like that. He was thin, he supposed. Thinner than he was in Camelot, surely, but he was regularly stealing food off the plate of a King for years by that point. Was he thinner than when he was just a peasant back in Ealdor? Hard to say. But Lance had a point in that he probably shouldn't be the same size that he was as a half-starved medieval peasant teenager. 

“I'm not used to it,” he admitted. “It's become so easy for me to just… not be human anymore. I drink coffee for the ritual of it, I eat the snacks my students bring me, but meals seem so… pointless to me. A waste of time.”

“No offense here, but aren't you full up on time? Isn't that what you've been telling us this whole time? Some of it needs to be for you, Merlin, not just for everyone else.”

Merlin rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. It's too late to change, he thought, I've been this way for too long. I will always be like this. 

Then he remembered that his life had a finish line, thanks to Morgana. Maybe he should start enjoying it again, if he knew it would all end soon. He had lived pretty much every day since he was roused from slumber working for others, and the better part of a millennium before that as well. It was possible that Lance had a point, and he should spend some of his time on himself. 

“Did I ask what you do in this life?”

“Oh, I'm a therapist.” 

∆

Lancelot fell asleep quickly. Merlin did not, but he didn't dare move until Lance's breathing had been even for well over an hour and he let out exactly eighteen loud, drawn-out snores. 

He found himself out in his garden, on his knees in the dirt. The flowers he grew were kept alive mostly by his magic, but they always did better with some hands-on TLC, too. 

Which was exactly the point Lancelot was trying to get across to him. Shit. Merlin's hands dug deep into the soil, grasping at it to keep himself steady. Was he really trying to slowly kill himself this whole time? He couldn't say for certain that he wasn't, which really felt like an answer in itself. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” a voice said behind him. Gwen.

“I think you'll find that price a bit steep for what you'll get from me,” Merlin said. He did not turn to face her, kept his hands buried in the earth. 

“I’m certain I'd be willing to pay much more, actually,” she replied. Her tone had no humor in it, just melancholy. “It must be terrible, having us back but not him.” Her voice had lessened to a whisper, but Merlin heard each word like a shout. 

Merlin hunched his shoulders, curled closer to the flowers. He said nothing. 

“It's terrible for me,” she continued. Merlin's eyes closed tightly. “I moved on from him, lived the rest of my last life without him and the whole beginning of this one, but now that I know he could come back I feel so empty. He was everything to me when he was alive, you know. My husband, my King, my best friend. It took so long for me to be okay after he died and you left. When I saw you and remembered everything, it was like all the puzzle pieces that I'm made of locked back into place, and then I realized we didn't have him back and it was like the whole middle fell out and I don't know what the picture is supposed to be anymore. We all feel it, like we're just waiting for an order from him, something to bring us to action, but he's not here to give it. We're all just standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if we jump or if we just fall. Merlin, I don't want to fall!”

He pulled away from the ground and turned to her, pulling her into a hug when he saw that the tears in her voice were streaking down her face as well.

“I don't know what's going to happen,” he whispered to her. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and tried to hold back the tears of his own. “I've been around for a while, and I don't think I've ever known what was going to happen, even when something divine tells me. But we're together now, Gwen. We're going to find out together.”

He held her until she stopped shaking, or until he stopped shaking, whichever came last. He was moments from letting her go and suggesting they both go back to sleep when she said something into his chest, something so mumbled and garbled that he couldn't make out the words.

“What was that?” he asked. Gwen pulled her head back and looked him in the eyes, face swollen and eyes red.

“We're not together, not all of us,” she said. “Not Arthur.”

Merlin swallowed harshly. 

“Not Arthur,” he said. “Not yet.”