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Merlin had never really been a fan of waiting. There was so much to do and he always had such little time to do it, there never really was any opportunities for him to wait. Arthur needed this cleaned and Gaius needed those herbs and Gwen needed his input on something to do with Morgana or Lancelot- it was always one or the other and heaven knows if he bothered to stop by the training field he would never get anything done.
The first time Merlin got to sit down and wait was when Arthur died.
Merlin hated waiting.
There was a cottage erected then, at the edges of Avalon, that was inhabited by one sole warlock. If he was lonely, he never showed it.
Merlin visited Camelot often. Gwen got on well as queen, and he visited his mother often. Sometimes, when nobody really wondered where he was, he would visit Morgana’s grave.
Sometimes, Merlin wondered if he could have stopped all of this from happening if he had simply offered to be a support for her. He never lingered on those feelings long.
Gaius passed away first. It was a peaceful death, and Merlin was content. He had lived a long life, and he knew that Gaius had been ultimately happy- at least a bit. Hunith passed away next. Merlin never could bring himself to look at her body.
Gwen remarried, and her son took over Camelot when she died. Merlin didn’t cry at her funeral. He had no tears left to cry. The only thing that showed his ache was the hole in his heart left by his friends.
Merlin didn’t have much of a reason to go back to Camelot after that. So he waited. His armour was always in pristine shape. The laundry was always done.
And Merlin waited. When he died from the black death, it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.
He waited. When he died from old age, Merlin decided it would be better to use his magic to keep himself young.
and waited. When Camelot and the neighboring kingdoms dissolved, Merlin wasn’t around to see it.
and waited. When the first world war broke out, Merlin wasn’t remotely concerned. It wasn’t like they’d be able to bomb his home.
and waited. When the second world war rolled around, Merlin took a firm look at his outdated home and decided to add more of the modern amenities people had made.
and waited. by the they had put people on the moon, Merlin had long grown tired of his cottage. So he moved. As it turns out there were a lot of buyers for chests full of pure, arthurian age old gold. So Merlin had a lot of money. And a lot of places to choose from.
By the time Merlin had almost stopped waiting, he was living comfortably in a small flat just outside hyde park with a concerning amount of pre-medieval relics in his home for any visitors he might have.
Merlin didn’t like acknoledging the void in his heart anymore. It hurt some days, when he was tired and it was raining and he was alone, but he did his best to get along.
He even got himself a job. It wasn’t a particularily large or good job, considering placing a little over 5.2 million British Pounds in the bank in 1969 would end up with just under 110 million now, Merlin would consider himself well off.
He was an intern ‘historian’ at the British Museum, mostly doing work online, talking to primary school classes over zoom meetings about the Arthurian legends and relics dated back from that time.
He had found it funny, when he reemerged into society, that Magic had almost completely died off. There were people here and there, with small remnants that were passed down by people from Merlin’s time, but no real Sorcerers. It was like Uther’s wet dream.
It had been an even greater shock to hear that he himself was a legend. Gwen certainly had been busy, teaching stories to her son when Merlin wasn’t around. So, Merlin found himself smiling whenever a passerby talked about the Great King Arthur and his loyal Sorcerer Merlin.
The world had changed a lot since Merlin had last actively participated in it. But he didn’t mind doing so. He had friends here, and he would talk to them on occasion.
By the time the grand old year of two thousand and twenty two, Merlin had established a routine for himself. Wake up around 7am. Check that the wards around Avalon were undisturbed, and magic himself to the lake to check that everything was alright, and then back to his flat. He would dress, and on the days he was needed at the Museum, he would head there. If not, he’d take a walk around. There wasn’t always much to do in London, but he enjoyed stopping at Mark’s and Spencer’s every once in a while for a Pain au Chocolat, or head to Cecil court to see if any of his old books had turned up there (again.)
Merlin kept a calender on his bedside. It was a funny thing, chock full of important dates, yet it didn’t have his own birthday on it. October 3rd, Elyan’s birthday. November 23rd, Gwaine’s birthday.
December 24th, the Battle of Camlann.
The higher ups at the Museum learned to always mark those days off for Merlin during the year, after so many times requesting time off.
Merlin tried to visit them often. He really did. It felt like some part of them was with him when he did.
But they never came back.
So Merlin kept waiting.
~~~
January 9th, 2023. Merlin noted to himself as he pulled his body up and out of bed. His blue shirt hung low on his frame, slightly too big. He switched on the kettle and flipped on the shower, rinsing his body of the previous nights stress as the warm water scalded his skin.
The cold air burned his skin more than the water had when he stepped out, draping a towel around his body as he dropped a tea bag into an overused and old mug.
It was raining outside that morning. The Alexa said that it would the whole day. A ghost of a smile crept up on Merlin’s face, not quite there and not quite not. The rain left a small pitter-patter sound on the window, dragging down the panes of glass slowly, condensing and leaving mist.
The kettle switched off, and Merlin poured the hot water into the mug, watching the tea bag slowly float to the top. The mug was warm against his cooled fingers, and the first sip he took burnt his tongue.
He set the mug down, ignoring the hot feeling of hurt on his tongue, getting dressed. A pair of jeans, a cashmere jumper, a scarf that had taken place of his neckerchiefs.
It felt weird not to have something around his neck, to him.
He drank the rest of his tea as he made his way back to the kitchen, grabbing his phone from where it rested on the charger. No new messages. There hardly ever were. He had to go in to work today, but it would take a while to walk there from his flat.
Merlin sighed, finishing the last drops of tea and firing off a message to his boss to let her know he was going to be late today.
The clear umbrella rested by the coatrack, and Merlin grabbed a tan trenchcoat to match the raining weather before making his way outside. He never had been much of a breakfast person.
Rain hit his skin the moment he stepped outside, harsh and cruel and grounding. It was like a tether to the earth, a realistic reminder of how impossibly alive he was.
Merlin barely made it too blocks before his umbrella broke, and his black hair was pressed to his head, wet and sopping with rain. He sighed, dipping into an alley to pull out his mobile and shoot off another text letting them know he wouldn’t actually be able to come in today after all.
The electronic had barely hit the inside lining of his pockets when his head started buzzing. It wasn’t a migraine or any sort of illness, but it took Merlin too many seconds to recognize it as the sensation of his wards being breached.
His breathing stopped. He started shaking slightly, welling back the urge to tears, he was wet enough. A quick glance down the street showed that any nearby pedestrians had quickly taken shelter away from the storm.
The buzz of magic that accompanied the alarm of the wards activated and with the smallest popping sound, Merlin was no longer on the streets of London.
The storm was almost worse in Avalon. He could barely see 5 feet in front of him, harsh winds blowing his coat in the wind, hair a messy mop against his forehead. There was a voice, but he couldn’t hear it against the howling.
Merlin walked forward, heart the most full of hope it had been in a very long time.
“Merlin!” The quiestest whisper that was likely more a loud shout was heard.
It had been so long, too long, yet Merlin would know that voice better than he knew his own.
Nobody would see it, but tears began streaming down the Warlock’s face.
“Arthur?” He asked, tentative. This wasn’t a trick of the wind, right? It wasn’t just a prank.
Merlin didn’t know anybody that was capable of pranking him like this. No one at all.
“Merlin, there you are!” A pause, and Merlin stepped forward. “Actually. Where, are you? I can’t see a damned thing.” Arthur cursed, and Merlin conjured a ball of light in his hand, doing his best to find where his King was.
Merlin surged forward, a strength he never would have had inside him.
He took a step. Then another, still calling out Arthur’s name. His brain had lost all process except to say his name. Only his name. Ever his name.
A collision.
Merlin would have stumbled back, if calloused hands didn’t grab his arms.
“There you are! Took you long enough, I’m freezing out her-” Arthur started monolouging like he normally did, and Merlin wrapped his arms around him.
His thoughts switched from a constant repetitiveness of ‘Arthur, Arthur, Arthur’ to “Take me home.”
And in an instant, the rain stopped.
Arthur let go of him, and clattered to the floor, soaking the expensive wood panels with rainwater.
He looked exactly the same as Merlin had left him. Sword in his hilt, bloody armour stained from a now non-existent wound, golden blonde hair in the same haircut he had always had, a shocked look on his face as he looked at Merlin.
“Merlin? What on earth are you wearing? Where are we?” Arthur started rambling, and a cold shiver ran through Merlin’s body.
What did he do? What on earth did he do?
Arthur was back. Arthur was finally, finally back.
And Merlin had no idea what to do with him. Merlin barely knew what to do with himself. So, he did the only thing he knew he should do in this situation.
He took off his jacket, grabbing his likely ruined mobile from the pocket and putting it in a tupperware of rice to try and salvage it, completely ignoring the wet cat of a king on the floor asking Merlin what on earth he was doing, what he was wearing, and where the fuck he was.
At some point, after Merlin had removed his shoes and socks and went to go get a blowdryer, he heard the clink and clank of metal armour shifting, and saw Arthur standing up, looking disoriented.
He was shivering like he was in the arctic and his lips looked a bit blue and Merlin could probably kiss them better if Arthur stopped developing hypothermia in front of him.
“Nope.” Merlin said immeadiately, strutting forward and letting the muscle memory of removing all of Arthur’s armour and clothes set into his bones.
He grabbed an empty clothesbin he was going to use for Laundry after work, taking off piece after piece of Armour until Arthur was left in his tunic and breeches, still looking cold. Merlin’s hand dragged over the rip in the tunic where he had once been stabbed just a bit too long, bitter memories ripping to the surface before he came back to himself.
“Merlin!” Arthur snapped, finally grabbing the raven’s attention.
“Yes?” Merlin asked, sounding choked up despite doing his best to hide it.
“Would you please answer my questions? I will not tolerate such disrespect, even if you are.. well, Merlin!” He said, looking every bit as confused and upset and still disoriented as he was.
Merlin worried his lower lip between his teeth, shaking his head.
“Sorry, Sire. I’ll.. I’ll do my best in a second. Please, just follow me for now?” He asked, doing his best to get his act together. Arthur was struggling more than he was. He needed him. Arthur sighed, noting the use of the title Merlin never used, and nodding.
Merlin grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him into the restroom. Arthur stared around in wonder and discomfort at the unfamiliar area, reaching out to touch the sink handles before Merlin swatted his hand away.
“Don’t touch anything right now.” He commanded, hoping Arthur would listen.
He walked over to the shower, pulling the lever to turn it on, watching Arthur visibly flinch as the hot water started pouring out.
“Magic! Merlin! You can’t use this freely!” He said, looking shocked and devastated. Merlin shook his head.
“Not magic. I’ll explain it later, okay? Right now, you’re going to die if you don’t take off your clothes and get in the shower. You’re freezing.” Merlin explained, and Arthur looked beyond wary, eyeing the shower up and down.
Merlin cursed under his breath, pulling Arthur forward as the king tried to inch away.
“If it’s too hot, turn it this way. If you want it off, pull it all the way down. Got it? Great.” Merlin explained, turning and leaving the room, shutting the door behind him and ignoring, once again, Arthur’s desperate calls.
He walked fast to his bedroom, shutting the door and sliding down the wall with his head in his hands. His body was cold. His face was hot.
Tears trickled down Merlin’s face, and he wiped them away with his sullied jumper, too water-soaked to absorb any of it.
He gave a laughterless chuckle at it, pulling himself off his feet and stripping himself down. He grabbed a towel that he had discarded earlier, doing his best to ignore the cold and simply getting the water off his body.
Once he had deemed himself dry enough, he grabbed a thick sleep-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, placing them on to dull the need for the shower he desperately needed.
Merlin avoided the mirror like a plague, knowing very well he looked like shit right now. He flicked the kettle on with a thought, arms feeling like lead at his side. He could hear the water level changing, like Arthur was toying with the shower, and not a single part of Merlin could bring himself to care.
He leaned over the sink, a single plate in it, waiting for the kettle to stop boiling. He pulled himself off the ledge, moving to grab a mug. No, not one mug. Two. He needed two.
Merlin felt dizzy.
The kettle stopped. The rain continued. Merlin nearly dropped the glass. He worried his lip between his teeth again. He tasted blood.
Merlin pulled out two bags of Chamonmille, taking a good think at one, and switching to Darleejing. Arthur had never much liked too sweet teas. Placing a gracious amount of Honey in his and leaving Arthur’s on the counter, he sat on the couch.
The television was off, yet Merlin found himself staring at it. The cup warmed his hands as his leg bounced up and down and he never brought it up to his lips.
At some point, when the tea was mostly luke-warm, the water shut off. Merlin was almost scared of the water bill this month. He smiled, heart slowing from it’s fast pace.
He brought the cup to his lips as a door clicked down the hall. There were light footsteps that Merlin had only ever heard against stone or in boots, and he looked up.
Merlin went to say something, when his eyes snagged on Arthur’s figure. He was naked. Completely, totally, naked. Merlin turned very red very fast, averting his eyes and choking on his tea as he set the mug down.
“Arthur!” He shouted, looking at the suddenly very interesting couch cushion.
“What? It’s not like you haven’t seen me befor-” Arthur started as if he was not standing in the middle of Merlin’s flat, completely naked, dripping on the floor once again, with the windows cracked open.
Merlin looked around for anything to throw at Arthur, eyes landing on a pillow. He grabbed it and threw it at once, not saying anything other than a few muffled grunts.
“The towels! The soft plush things in the bathroom!” Merlin cried out, feeling his body temperature rise at an extremely alarming rate as the image wouldn’t leave his mind with less than holy intents accompanying it.
Arthur frowned again, made some mumbling noise under his breath, before returning once more to the bathroom while Merlin had a mental breakdown.
Arthur was right. Merlin had technically seen him before, he was his manservant anymore, but it had been 1500 years, and Merlin had barely wrapped his head around the fact that Arthur was back- was alive, he didn’t need to wrap his mind around how he’d like to wrap his hand-
Okay. He was done. Merlin was going to hell.
He shot up from the couch the moment Arthur disappeared, striding towards the bedroom with a new purpose in life. He should have things that fit Arthur. He preferred his shirts slightly larger, and he had accidentally bought a pair of lounging shorts that were too big a while ago- which the store graciously decided to not let him return.
Drawers were pulled open in a haze of purpose, and Merlin grabbed a red tee that hadn’t seen the light of day in a while, and the aforementioned shorts. Merlin looked back to his undergarments, then back to the loose shorts.
He cursed under his breath, conjuring underwear for his friend, debating whether or not he got paid enough to deal with this.
The journey back to the restroom was short, and the knocks that landed on the door were too quick for the nonchalance Merlin wished to display.
“Arthur. The Towel. Is it on you?” He asked.
“Ah, yes.” Arthur called back, and Merlin pushed in, noting that Arthur had not grasped the function of a lock yet.
He dropped the clothes on the counter, turning to Arthur before pausing, a completely done expression on his face.
Arthur had a hand towel around his waist, held together with hopes and dreams.
Merlin grabbed one of the bigger towels, immeadiately draping it around Arthur’s lower half, and the O shape that Arthur’s mouth formed into quickly replaced the confidence he had previously worn.
“A big toddler, you are.” Merlin muttered under his breath, and Arthur perked up at the sound of his voice.
“What was that?” He asked, like he knew Merlin had said something treasonous.
“Nothing.” Merlin said, grabbing a smaller tower to dry off Arthur’s hair as it was clear the man wouldn’t figure it out anytime soon.
Once he had finished, he pointed to the clothes despite the burning need to look at the handiwork of his (Arthur’s body).
“Clothes. Can you dress yourself?” Merlin asked, pointing resolutely to the pile.
“Yes, of course I can Merlin. That’s your job-” Arthur began saying and Merlin shook his head, shutting the door behind him again.
When Merlin got to the sofa, he collapsed. This was NOT how he wanted his day to go. His body, despite having barely done anything, was protesting any sort of movement whatsoever.
His face was pressed firmly against the cushion, muffling his voice. He pushed himself up to call out an;
“Alexa, play ‘That’s Life’” to the Ai on the counter, before flipping himself over onto his back and closing his eyes.
The beginning chords began to play, and Merlin hummed along quietly. He wished he had lived in America enough to have been able to see the man in person.
“That’s life.. that’s what all the people say..” Merlin sang along, almost completly zoned out.
The same door clicked, and Merlin was hesitant to sit up. He wouldn’t put it past Arthur to have placed them on wrong.
“Merlin are you poor now? What is with this atrocious clothin-” Arthur started, making his way out to the living room, pausing when he heard the song.
Merlin pushed himself up on his elbows, looking over. Arthur had managed to get the clothes on, yet the shirt was backwards and choking him slightly, from the way the man kept pulling it down and away from his neck.
He stared in horror at the Alexa as it continued singing, like he had never seen such a despicable sight.
“Merlin! Merlin there is a man inside that box!” He spoke, voice too high to be normal. Merlin watched the sight, and the laughter that bubbled up in his chest couldn’t be stopped.
He tried to stifle it, he really did. But it clawed at his chest, and really, the sight of a 4th century king wearing a modern shirt the wrong way and trying to free a recording was too funny of a concept and Merlin doubled over as he watched the scene unfold.
“Merlin! A man has been cruelly trapped and you’re laughing?” He asked incredulously, and Merlin laughed some more.
“Alexa-” He panted, trying to get the words out and struggling to catch his breath. “Alexa, pause.” He managed to stumble out, and Arthur watched in amazement as the Alexa picked up his words and stopped the song.
Merlin got up from the couch, approaching Arthur.
“You’re wearing the shirt wrong.” Was the first thing he said, tugging at Arthur’s arms. “Lift your arms up.” He commanded, and Arthur looked skeptical but did as he asked.
Merlin flipped the shirt around with ease, and Arthur looked much more comfortable when his windpipe wasn’t being restricted.
“Oh.” Was all Arthur said, before looking back at the Alexa. “The man. Where did he go.” He asked, and Merlin bit his tongue hard to stop himself from laughing again.
“There’s no man. It’s a recording.” Merlin explained, picking up the small sphere.
“A rec- what?” Arthur asked, incredulous.
“A recording. Look, Arthur. Sit down.” The taller man said, moving over and pulling out one of the stool for Arthur to sit on.
If it was possible for a man to look suspicious at every action, Arthur was accomplishing this feat incredibly well. Merlin slid the mug of tea over towards him, and the blonde stared down it oddly. Merlin reached over, showed him how to pick it up simply because he didn’t want any more of his things broken.
Not that Arthur had broken anything.
“What is this?” He asked, bringing it up to his lips with the full trust that Merlin would not serve him anything poisonous.
“Darleejing tea.”
“I have never heard of such a tea. Where did you acquire it?” Arthur paused, taking a sip, looking pleased enough with the rich flavour. “Also, you still haven’t told me where we are. Did you move out of the castle?”
Merlin took a deep breath, preparing himself for the bombshell he was about to drop on his poor king.
“Arthur.” Merlin said looking him dead in the eyes. “What year is it?” There was not a trace of joking on the Raven’s face.
Arthur did that funny thing with his face, where he half-smirked, half-smiled, like he wasn’t quite sure if Merlin was being serious. Oh gods, how Merlin had missed that face.
“Well, considering the battle of Camlann..” Merlin drew a sharp intake of breath. “And that I was supposed to return when Camelot needed me most, it’s been a few years? 521, If I had to guess. It couldn’t have been much longer with you running around causing trouble.”
Merlin so badly wanted to quip that normally it was Arthur that caused so much trouble, but this was a serious conversation, no matter how glad Merlin was to hear the banter.
“Alexa?” Merlin called out to the device, and Arthur’s head turned faster than could be healthy to it. “What’s the date today?” Merlin asked, and Arthur sent him a skeptical side eye.
“Today is the Ninth of January, 2023.” Alexa said in her robotic voice.
Arthur started laughing.
“That’s a funny joke, Merlin. What year is it actually?” He joked, but when his light blue eyes met Merlin’s dark blue, there was nothing but sadness in them.
“You can’t be serious.” Arthur’s tone quickly changed to disbelief, eyes shaking. “You can’t seriously expect me to believe you waited 1500 years without aging a day? Nobody would do that.”
Merlin turned back to the fridge, grabbing bread and butter and treacle out, moving over to the toaster.
“Are you hungry?” He asked, not meeting his eyes.
“Merlin. You can’t avoid this.” Arthur said, standing up from his seat, looking completely out of place, and it took everything in Merlin not to break down right there and then, just to collapse into Arthur’s arms as he had so desperately wanted to do for years.
There was a long pause before Merlin answered.
“It’s really good to see you, Arthur.”
Arthur was taken aback. Merlin waited. And waited. And waited. For him. Only for him.
Arthur didn’t say anything after that, head placed in his hands as he picked up the stool, sitting back down and taking small sips of less than lukewarm tea. The toaster popped, and the only sound in the flat was the drops of rain hitting and sliding down the window, and the spread of butter against bread.
There was the chink of porcelain against marble, and Merlin slid a plate with two slices of bread towards Arthur.
Arthur didn’t look as skeptical anymore, just resigned.
“What’s this?” He asked. Merlin was sure he wasn’t asking about the bread, but the golden topping on it.
“Treacle. You’ll probably like it. Itsh Swheet.” He said, stuffing his own singular slice in his mouth as he finished his sentence. Arthur looked at him with a funny look, but picked up the piece of food anyway.
He ate it, eyes shining as Merlin had expected them to. He had long since stopped doing every day tasks with thoughts such as “I wonder what Arthur would think of this.”, yet he couldn’t help it when they crept up on him.
He smiled at the scene.
Arthur finished eating faster than him, leaving the crusts as he normally did, and Merlin almost relaxed in the normalcy of it.
Merlin collected his plate and placed it in the sink next to his own, running the tap water to rinse off his hands. Arthur stood up and made his way to the window, looking outside with newfound curiousity.
“Really Merlin, as the King I shouldn’t have to ask you this for the third time, but where are we?” Arthur quipped, and Merlin laughed.
“I’ll hold your hand when I say this, but you’re no King anymore.” Merlin countered.
Arthur spun around, placing a hand over his heart and looking entirely distraught.
“How dare you! I should have you executed for treason!”
Merlin threw his hands up in defense, barking out a rebite.
“Ah, alright I’m sorry!” He joked. “You’ll always be a king in my heart, Arthur.” He smirked, bowing forward with his hand over his heart, and the pure shade of pendragon red Arthur turned made it worth it.
“You jest.” Arthur said, looking away from Merlin’s face.
“I don’t.” Merlin muttered under his breath, before inching away to grab a map from his bedroom. He went down the hallway before turning back. “Don’t touch a thing!” He yelled, moving quickly.
He had hidden Excalibur, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he came back to some sort of weapon through his television.
Merlin swiped the globe from it’s resting spot on the top of the bookcase, a thing of sewing pins, and a flat map before rushing back outside to see Arthur patiently waiting, looking around in bewilderment at many of the items around him.
He doubted the man had even seen a couch before this. He pulled at the neck of his shirt again, as though it was hurting him. Merlin knew for a fact it wasn’t.
The globe and assorted items dropped on the coffee table with a thud, and Arthur looked at them oddly.
“What is this?” He asked, pointing at the round thing.
“It’s a globe. Of Earth.” He paused. Arthur wouldn’t know what that was. “It’s like a map, but it shows every place beyond where we are right now.”
Arthur nodded tentatively, looking down at it.
“Where is Camelot?” He asked, and Merlin wasn’t sure if he could even read the globe, yet he seemed to be looking anyway, staring at the islands that made up Japan.
“Camelot is gone now. England- where we are right now and where Camelot used to be- is here.” Merlin informed him, spinning the globe to show the island of Great Britain, placing a single pin on it.
“Camelot is gone?” Arthur looked astounded, like it was a horrible thing to have happened, and Merlin supposed that to Arthur, it was.
“Yes. It dissolved little over… 500 years after you left?” Merlin thought, remembering the establishment of England as a country.
Arthur blanched, looking contemplative, before swallowing deeply and waving at Merlin to go on with his explanations.
“Alright. This is where Ealdor used to be- Wales.” Merlin told him, placing a pin near Cardiff. “Princess Vivian was from up here, in Scotland.” Merlin told him, dropping another pin.
Arthur reached out, pointing to another island.
“This. Is this Avalon? or the Isle of the Blessed?” He asked, pointing directly at Ireland.
Merlin laughed, and Arthur scowled.
“Are you laughing at me? Don’t laugh!” He demanded, and Merlin made a few choking noises in an attempt to stop, yet he found that he resolutely was struggling.
“That’s Ireland.” He coughed out, dragging his gaze over Arthur’s red and embarassed face. “The lake of Avalon and the Isle of the Blessed is over here, in Glastonbury Tor.”
Arthur gaped.
“But it’s so tiny! Where are the seas?” He looked astounded, and completely shocked.
Merlin laughed again. Arthur frowned.
“Well, some of them dried up over time, but it was never really that big to begin with.” He explained. “It probably just seemed much bigger than it actually was because we were really bad at mapping back then.”
Arthur seemed to be trying his best to wrap his head around it, although it was unsure of how good of a job he was doing.
“…And the rest of this.. earth?” He said outloud, a foreign word that he did not know. Merlin smiled.
He picked up a pin, and put it on India.
“This is India, where I got your tea from, since you asked.” He moved it a bit, back over to Europe, where Arthur would likely know more things. “This is France. It used to be a part of the world that the Francs had conquered.”
And it continued like so. Arthur pointed at a place, clueless to anything about it, and Merlin explained. It wasn’t as grueling as he had expected it to be. He picked the information up with ease, even if he really had no clue.
At some point, when Merlin had succeeded in teaching him the basic continents and the seas, and quizzing him to make sure he remembered, Merlin moved on from geography to more important current events. It required his computer, which he had thankfully left sat next to the couch.
He typed in the password, watching Arthur scowl at the box that he did not like, and typed in ‘Current King of England’.
“This is King Charles the Third.” Merlin tells him.
“I don’t like your magic box, Merlin. What if it has the information wrong?” Arthur asked him, and Merlin bit down on his lip so hard to keep from laughing, he started bleeding.
“It’s correct, Arthur. The queen died just about four months ago, and he’s to be coronated soon.”
Arthur harumphed, a noise that Merlin had missed so dearly of his king, tapping the table with one of his fingers, touching the computer tentatively.
“I don’t like him.”
“Not many people do.” Merlin answered with ease.
“Do you?”
Merlin frowned.
“Not particularily. His current wife is… not a good person. I liked Princess Diana much more.”
Merlin wasn’t going to tell Arthur outright that Charles had likely had her killed, but he wouldn’t not tell him that.
“Tell me more. I want to know all the worst things about this man so I can tell Guinevere.” Arthur said, speaking of his lavender wife as Merlin knew she had been, and a small portion of sadness ate away at Merlin’s heart.
He didn’t say anything.
Instead, he typed Princess Diana into the search box and let him read through the wikipedia page and BBC articles on her, Arthur understanding modern english being a part of the destiny that brought him back, it so seemed.
After a while, Arthur nodded and looked at Merlin.
“I like her. I want to meet her.”
Merlin cringed inwardly.
“Ah… she died back in 1997, Arthur.” He told him, and Arthur gaped.
“What? How?!” Arthur exclaimed, and Merlin typed it in right as his phone started buzzing from the countertop, in the rice where he had left it.
Merlin took one hear of the ringtone, his work one, and back at Arthur, who was scrolling the news articles related to her death. It would be alright to leave him alone for one second, wouldn’t it?
“I’ll be right back, okay Arthur? I have to answer my mobile.” Merlin said to him, and Arthur barely gave a nod before contuining reading.
The phone call was from Solanine, his boss, who wanted to know what had come up. She had never been a bad boss, and Merlin knew that she was calling of concern not anger, so he moved into his own room and explained that he had to reconnect with an old friend unexpectedly.
This lead to her making noises at him with the attitude of the 21 year old who spent too much of her time on slash websites, knowing full well that Merlin was a fae.
He made a face, but she couldn’t see it.
“Whatever it is, Merlin, I’m glad you’re alright. Just let me know if anything else pops up, alright? We appreciate you.”
“Of course. Thank you as well.”
“Love you, Merls.” She told him, and Merlin reciprocated. He did really like the people he worked with. They had a passion, and he enjoyed helping them.
By the time the phone call had ended, and Merlin came out of the room, Arthur looked utterly distraught.
“What the hell’s got you riled up?” He asked, unsure of what could have happened in the 10 minutes he had been gone.
A lot, it turns out.
The first issue with leaving a medieval king with a propencity to believe the first thing he’s told with a computer is that he believes the first thing he’s told.
It starts with Princess Diana, god bless her heart.
“He killed her, Merlin, and they’re letting him run the country! With that woman, of all people!” Arthur had yelled, outraged at what had happened to her.
Merlin had pacified him slowly, making him take sips of tea to calm down.
This then lead to Arthur explaining after finishing the article, he had clicked on the similar stories about suffrages and all the current issues.
Arthur, in 10 minutes, had just become what some people would undoubtedly describe as woke. Merlin was sure the people who thought Arthur would believe in white supremacy at the museums would love this.
“What they’re doing to the people, my people, Merlin, is despicable! We must do something!”
“We are doing stuff, Arthur.”
“It’s not enough! Have you seen that women are paid less than men? What utter bullshit! Everyone got paid the same in Camelot as long as you did your fucking job!”
Merlin stifled a laugh, because Arthur did have a point.
“Is that why you paid me so little?”
“You were arse at your job, Merlin, and you know it.”
“Whatever you say, your highness.”
Arthur’s ears turned red, and he crossed his arms.
“You’ve not even been back a day, Arthur. We can fix things, considering I suppose this is when Albion needs you most, but we need to get you started on other things first.”
Arthur looked at him oddly, with a glint in his eyes that was fervent curiosity mixed with not understanding.
“Like what? Can we reinstate me as king and take out the bastard who is going to run instead?”
Merlin shook his head as he plugged his phone in and threw away the rice.
“No, like getting you more clothes.”
Arthur looked down at his shorts, which did ride up his muscular thighs in a way that Merlin appreciated, and nodded.
“Yes, I suppose we should call the tailor.”
“I’ll show you how the modern world works, so you don’t think it’s all sorcery.”
This made Arthur pause for a bit.
“You used magic freely, earlier. When you came for me.” He noted.
Merlin looked at him, serious in his eyes.
“This whole place is covered in it, Arthur.”
“Are you not afraid?”
“With you around? Never.”
“Merlin. Be serious.”
Merlin looked at him with a smile, all teeth.
“I am wild.”
Arthur scowled.
“It’s not illegal anymore, not for a long time.” He took a breath between speaking. “I’d imagine it’s almost completely died off.”
Arthur frowned.
“How odd.”
“I think you’ll find many things are odd.”
“With a clotpole like you, they always are.”
Merlin gaped at him.
“That’s my word!”
Arthur stuck his tongue out like a toddler.
Merlin considered throwing him back in the lake.
In the end, the night passed quietly, peacefully. Merlin showed Arthur the television, and he succeeded in not sticking his sword through it, a win.
Merlin conjured up sleep clothes for him, and showed him how to brush his teeth. Of course, Merlin gave him the bed, when it got late.
Arthur’s eyes fell to the calendar first.
“What’s this?” He asked, flipping through the months, the item made of magic going back decades.
“A calendar. So I don’t forget things.”
Arthur paused, before speaking again.
“You waited so long.” It was quiet and small, but there, like he couldn’t believe it.
“Maybe.” Merlin said, like he wasn’t sure.
It had felt so long. So many years of nothing. But now he had him, in the flesh, the warmth and heat inches from him, and it felt like nothing in the end.
Merlin hated waiting. But he would wait, always, for him.
“Albion needs me most, now, you said?” Arthur asked, light blue eyes turning to him. Merlin smiled.
“Albion always needs a good person like you, dollophead.” He added the insult at the end to counteract the compliment, but it didn’t work, the way Arthur’s mouth twitched up.
“What about you?”
“What?” Merlin replied, confused.
“What about you? Forget Albion, do you need me?” Arthur repeated, like he was searching for something in Merlin that he couldn’t find.
A pause, before Merlin let his smile fall slightly, for something more melancholy.
“It’s been 1500 years, Arthur. I’ve never needed you more.”
And suddenly Arthur was moving forward, grabbing Merlin’s jaw and wrenching it towards him, kissing him with the fervency as if he had been the once to wait a thousand years.
Merlin kissed him back for only a few seconds, before pulling away.
“Wait-”
Arthur frowned. No man who had waited a millenium and a half for someone would pull away like that.
“Shut up, Merlin.” Arthur quipped, before kissing him again.
Merlin didn’t resist this time.
Merlin hated waiting.
He hated getting up at 7 am every morning to an empty house and a cold bed and a calendar with birthdays that he had nobody to celebrate for.
But Arthur was there, all hells. And Merlin was going to have to do that rotten work all over again, and he would hate it just as much as he did the first time, but if it meant not having to wait, he would do it, over and over.
Arthur was the only person Merlin would ever wait for.