Work Text:
Merlin rowed steadily towards the center of the lake. His wellies were in puddles on the floor of the canoe due to rains earlier that day, but the sky was clear and the winds were soft and gentle as the sun lowered in the sky. As he drew closer to the center of the lake, Merlin pulled up the oars and let the boat drift.
Having started a new cycle of life less than a decade before, Merlin appeared to be in his late twenties or early thirties, hair dark and skin smooth. The only thing old about him were his eyes, especially today.
Merlin reached under his seat and retrieved a waxed canvas satchel, pulling a few objects out. He knelt, the knees of his jeans getting wet, and placed a candle lantern on the seat he had just vacated. With a golden flicker of his eyes, the candle lit.
Merlin looked into the dancing flames, then up at the sky, which was becoming streaked with pinks, purples, and oranges. His hands held a rough-cut quartz crystal, and he ran his fingertips over their edges and crevices as he gathered his thoughts and emotions together for his yearly ritual of remembrance.
Each year he brought a stone or crystal. Sometimes he brought a carving. He would sit, maybe talk to Arthur a bit, watch the sun go down, and go back to his waiting.
Though the city wasn't far, Merlin felt as if he were outside of the times when he came here. The water lapped on the edges of the canoe, and the birds and bugs went about their business, and Merlin knelt. He took in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then let it out slowly. He licked his lips.
“Hello, Arthur. It's me, Merlin.”
There was no response, but Merlin tried for a moment to remember his friend's voice. He wasn't sure if he could.
“Another year has passed. I just figured I'd say hi.”
He moved to sit on the bench seat opposite of the candle. The boat rocked slightly, but the candle stayed in place. A fish splashed nearby.
Merlin sat in silence, rolling the quartz in his hands, trying to imbue it with everything he wanted to say; everything he had said hundreds of times before to a friend that he wasn't sure could hear his words. Colors spread across the sky as time passed, first growing more vibrant, then increasingly dull and dark.
Soon enough, Merlin was only lit by the candle, the stars, and the crescent moon. He held the quartz crystal to his heart as if he could push his emotions into it and send them like a letter to Arthur in Avalon. He knew he did this for his own sanity, and that Arthur was likely unaware of the passing of time, if he was aware of anything at all.
Merlin brought the crystal to his mouth, pressing his lips to it lightly, and whispered, “I miss you, clotpole. Come back soon,” and dropped it into the dark water. He looked down at the opaque depths, imagining it falling to join his fifteen hundred or so other offerings at the bottom of the lake.
He blew out the candle and sat in his original seat, taking up the oars again. Smiling sadly, he said, “Until next year, Sire.” and began to row back to shore.