Chapter Text
In the deep, there is a stillness, a muteness that could only come from water. It is cool against my skin and stinging to my eyes. The surface looms above me, sparkling, rippling, awaiting my first breath. A breath I thought I had lost forever.
I had died. I remember it clearly. The greying sky, the warmth of Merlin’s tears on my cheek as he held me in his arms. I wonder, strangely, if he would have held me even if I had not asked him to. I liked to think that he would.
Perhaps I’d see him again. In this place after death. Maybe I would be able to hold Merlin when his time came.
A burning in my chest spurs me out of my thoughts. Though I died, it seems as though my lungs still want for breath, and so I force my limbs into action, kicking towards the sun. The water moves around me, the currents soft through my hair. My armor is heavy but I am strong, no longer weakened by mortal wounds. When at last I break the surface and take my first breath, the air tastes strange on my tongue. Unfamiliar like the ruins of a castle long forgotten. But I can’t dwell on it for long. My muscles already strain with the effort of carrying my chain mail, threatening to drown me just as I have been reborn.
My eyes find a beach and I begin my journey there, testing every few strokes to see if my feet can touch a solid floor. To my relief, the mud and sand level out very soon to where I can stand. The water level just reaches my chest and I can rest my tired arms. I try to get my bearings then.
The sky is a blank grey, nearly white but for a bright spot of sun muted behind the wall of clouds directly above me. I would have thought the afterlife to have a sunnier disposition.
Beyond the beach, green trees and yellow flowers tower along the shoreline. It is at the same time familiar, but not. I wade further toward the shore, panting as I fight against the weight of the water until a figure catches my eye.
It runs along the beach at full speed, as if something is chasing them. As if their life depends on their swiftness, a desperation in their footfalls that even from a distance anyone can see.
Faintly, I hear a voice. They are calling to me, I believe, though I do not know why. I still in the water to better listen, the ripples dying around my torso. The figure draws nearer, dark hair, dark clothes - a man, from the breadth of his shoulders and the slightness of his hips. His voice grows louder until at last, I hear his cry faintly across the water.
“Arthur!”
I feel my heart jolt with sudden despair, for I recognize the voice. I would have known the voice of my servant anywhere, no matter how strained and desperate it may have been. But why is he here? Here, in this place after death. He can’t have died so soon after me.
“Arthur!” he cries again and there is something in his voice that urges me to move again. Something is wrong. Merlin needs me.
I push harder against the water swelling against my navel, cursing the armor that failed me before and is now keeping me from my friend. Merlin has no such obstacles. He runs as if steered by the wind, his features becoming clearer as he comes ever closer. I can just pick out the outline of his ears when he crashes into the water himself, water spraying inelegantly as he trudges forward, arms pumping for balance. He does not seem to slow, even as the tiny waves pull around his legs.
“Arthur!” Merlin’s shout comes again and this time it is almost a question.
I feel compelled to answer him.
“Merlin!” I shout back. My voice comes out raw and unused, like sand being poured from a glass, but it deters neither of us. If anything, Merlin seems to press on even faster. He is closer now. I can make out his eyebrows first, and then the shape of his nose. He is wearing dark trousers and a strange blue tunic. His skin is pale and his dark hair is windswept and untidy.
And then his eyes come into focus, blue and brave, searching now, hopeful even. He is crying.
“Merlin?” I ask, concern taking a firmer hold on my heart as he nears, but the boy doesn’t stop to assuage me. He doesn’t stop at all. Instead, he nearly tackles me into the water, his arms thrown around my shoulders, his nose buried against my neck, his body utterly crushed to mine.
I hold him as he shakes, my fingers splaying across his back, trying to soothe him as he weeps onto my shoulder. The water laps gently above our knees. I hold him for a little while longer but something is clearly upsetting him. There must be some sort of danger. I scan the shoreline for any threats but find nothing.
“Merlin, what’s wrong?” I pull as gently as I can at the man’s shoulders to dislodge him from our embrace. He leaves reluctantly, lingering at my shoulder and on my arms. When I look into the shimmering of his eyes, I am shocked to see the utter relief held in their depths. His mouth is open, amazement puffing out with each of his panting breaths. His fingers grip me tight around my biceps. He cannot let me go.
“You’re here,” he shudders, as if someone has passed over his grave. His eyes pass back and forth between mine, drinking in the sight of me. “You’re real.” Tears still brim on his eyelashes. “You’re actually here.”
His voice is brittle tinder, crackling and hissing when set alight. Weak. It does not suit him.
“Of course, I am here,” I say and squeeze his shoulders to reassure him. I smile at him. “Though I am not quite sure where ‘here’ is.”
I say this in good humour but it only seems to startle him more. Merlin’s lip trembles and his fingers lift from my shoulders to drift over my cheeks, warm against my skin. His palms hold my jaw gently.
“Arthur…”
My smile fades. I cannot determine the emotions on Merlin’s face and do not know what to do. He seems relieved, unbearably so, but there is a grief in his eyes and in the tears that flow down his cheeks that I can only wonder at. He is hurting, but I do not know how to help him.
His thumb moves against my cheek, caressing over the soft jut of bone under my eye, and Merlin huffs a laugh though there is no humour in it. He stares at the spot where he has touched.
“Thank you,” he breathes, so softly I barely hear it. He brings his face to mine, our foreheads touching. He closes his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers again. It is said in prayer. Not to me. I find I do not care. Merlin’s breath falls over my face and I am content to remain there as he prays. It seems to calm him. His fingers lighten on my face. His chest evens with slower breaths. I try and study his face but he is too close. I cannot focus.
Finally, he leans away, eyes opening and I can see joy in the blue.
“My king,” he says and his voice is strong again.
“My friend,” I answer. It is the only thing I can think to say. It makes him smile and so I do too. A contentedness settles around us and I am loath to see it go, but curiosity stirs inside me.
“What is this place?”
His smile changes into a somber one, but there is pride there too. “You have returned home.”
My confusion must show on my face.
“Come,” Merlin says. “Let’s get out of this cursed lake.”
He frowns at the water as if suddenly remembering it is there. I realize it, suddenly, too, that the water is cold and Merlin’s hand is warm as it takes mine and leads me to the shore. The sand shifts beneath our feet as we leave the water behind. The air chills me and I shiver. Merlin looks me over and mutters something I do not understand. His eyes flicker like a flame and suddenly I am dry as if the water was pulled from me all at once.
Magic.
It still unnerves me, the pain of deceit still lingering here after death, but I have forgiven him, and his eyes are beautiful when they change.
Merlin seems bashful and I realize I must be staring.
“I am sorry,” Merlin says. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. You just seemed cold and I -”
“It’s alright, Merlin.”
He is uncertain, but he nods. I study him.
“I did not know there would be magic here. Beyond the veil.” I look at the muted sand around us. “But then, I suppose no one really knows until they are here do they?”
I look back at his eyes and they have grown soft, gentle. “Arthur, we are not beyond any veil. I told you. You are home.”
His eyes drift over the water and I follow his gaze. There on the island is a tower, aged and crumbling, bleached from the elements, yet standing tall. Powerful. The Lake of Avalon. I turn back to Merlin. He watches me carefully.
“I do not understand,” I hear myself say. “How long?”
Merlin looks away from me then, his eyes traveling to our hands still joined at our sides.
“A very long time.” He looks back up at me and his eyes are nearly grey. “Come. I will explain on the way.”
He pulls my hand and I follow him, following the footprints of his earlier mad sprint towards the water’s edge. And he explains. He tells me of how it was foretold that I would return when the need was greatest. His voice is emotionless as he recites the old words as if they have lost their meaning to him. And when he tells me how long it has been since I had died, I understand that they have. Lesser men would have given up long ago. Weaker men would have forgotten the words altogether. But Merlin is like no man I have ever met. And he waited all this time. For me.
My chest feels crushed against my lungs when I realize his devotion, his patience, his strength. I do not feel worthy of it. But he holds my hand within his own tightly, as if afraid of letting go, and I know he feels differently.
“Here we are,” he says quietly, and I tear my eyes away from him and look upon a small cottage. It is painted a soft blue, with windows overlooking the lake. Windows with glass! Merlin has certainly made well for himself in the decades I’d been gone.
The door hangs open, a potted plant overturned at the step. Merlin must have knocked it over in his haste to find me. He leads me through the door.
There are too many things I do not recognize. Paintings on the walls that look so real that I could reach out and touch their subjects if I wanted, a strange black mirror on a chest of drawers that I can barely see my reflection in, large white boxes inlaid into the cabinetry in what I can only assume is the kitchen by the assorted pots and silverware strewn about. Merlin moves some shiny books off of the couch in the center of the room and gestures for me to sit. In a daze, I do as he suggests. My eyes cannot seem to settle on one thing for too long. They jump from wall to wall, shelf to shelf, each containing something I have never seen before. A small panic starts to swell within me, tickling uncomfortably in the back of my throat until I see the contraptions at the window sitting on a narrow table.
They are old, familiar things. Instruments I can almost remember seeing in Gaius’s workshop. There is a purple gemstone balancing a scale on one end of the table, it connects to a vial of golden liquid. Copper-tipped spindles poke from a clay urn. I do not understand what the instruments are but they comfort me. Amongst the clutter of unknown, there lies a beacon of a time I had lost.
That, and Merlin. He reappears holding a bundle of clothes. He looks bashfully at the ground.
“All I have is mine, but we can get you some of your own later.” He holds them out to me and I stand to take them. A pair of soft trousers, a strange hooded tunic, and a wildly patterned undergarment. I want to tease him about the purple fabric. Who would pay for such luxury for their smalls?
“They’re in fashion, don’t look at me like that,” Merlin says rolling his eyes. “I’ll get you some plain white ones if it bothers you so much.”
“I am teasing.” My knuckles connect with his arm gently, still holding his clothes. “Besides, it is not the first time I have been forced to wear your clothes.”
Merlin blinks. I suppose he is trying to remember, but he shakes it off quickly. “Let me help you get this off.”
It is only then that I realize Excaliber is at my hip, safe in its scabbard. When I unbuckle it from around my waist Merlin looks at it with distaste but takes it carefully and sets it against the narrow table at the window. His fingers linger on it just a second too long and I wonder what he’s thinking. But it is over too quickly and he is striding back over to me to help me with my chain mail. The familiar weightlessness blesses my shoulders when he pulls the armor from me. He lays it almost reverently over the arm of the couch. Once that is gone, my tunic follows.
We both look down at the bare skin of my torso. My fingers brush over the spot where a blade once pierced my skin. There is nothing there. Just smooth tanned skin, as if nothing had ever touched it. Merlin stares at it. There is wonder in his gaze. I think I see confusion too.
He looks at me, his eyes searching back and forth between my own, perhaps looking for answers. I have none. He sets his jaw. I do not mistake it for disappointment. I do not think anything could disappoint my friend today.
Merlin turns away when I get down to my smalls and busies himself with finding a spot for my chain mail. He says I probably won’t need it anymore.
A warm sort of relief seeps into my chest as I pull on Merlin’s trousers. I feel too tired to fight. At least, for now. For now, I want to listen to Merlin speak about his years after my death, what all has changed, how Camelot has fared over the years. Besides, Merlin’s clothes are much softer than my old ones. They stretch around my hips and have no strings to tie. The tunic, however, has strange fastenings that I have never seen before.
“Merlin?”
He turns back to me. I hold out the garment to him in confusion. There’s a quirk to his lips, a small stitch of amusement that only irritates me slightly. It’s not often that he knows more than me.
He takes the tunic from me.
Well, I shouldn’t say that anymore. Merlin, I had learned, always seemed to know more than he let on, was always working quietly behind the scenes, pulling his little strings while I sat completely unaware. It shouldn’t have still stung. I knew it had been for my own good. But it did not change the fact that he had not trusted me.
“It’s called a zipper,” Merlin says. He shows me how the teeth interlock and pulls on the clasp until the thing splits in his hands. He guides my arms through the sleeves and they are as soft as the trousers. It smells like him.
“Here, see,” explains Merlin. “You just set this end into the other and…” He pulls upward on the clasp and the teeth fall together until he reaches the center of my sternum. His knuckles press gently into my chest. His eyes travel up to mine and he freezes for a moment before he is tearing them away again, pulling the clasp down along with his eyes until the ends fall apart. He steps back. “You try.”
I try to catch his eye again, understand what he is feeling, but he is resolutely staring at my front, waiting for me to clothe myself. At least now I know that Merlin is no less strange even after all these years. I fumble with the ends of the zipper for a moment but then I feel it click into place. I pull it closed, the sound of it tickling in my ears.
“Oh, I see how it got its name,” I say, a grin coming to my lips. I look to Merlin to see if he has gotten it too but the expression on his face stops me in my tracks.
His eyes are wet. They shine uncomfortably bright and his lips tremble, not in a frown, no, but certainly not a smile. His eyebrows are raised in a giddy sort of relief. His chest expands rapidly as he inhales shallow breaths. He takes in every inch of me.
“Merlin-”
“I’m sorry,” Merlin shudders, and he wipes at his eyes. “It’s just I never thought - I - seeing you - “ He cannot seem to finish the sentence. He rubs his nose on the back of his sleeve. I don’t know what to say. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I just…” He sighs. His tongue pokes out slightly to just barely wet his lips. “I missed you.”
He lets me hold his gaze then. I think he wants me to know so that I might tease him, think less of him, but I do not. Not after the number he told me near the water. No man could.
A silence stretches, but I cannot think of what to say. I have not missed him as he has missed me. It’s only been moments for me. The years Merlin spent alone were a mere blink in the lake. I cannot pretend to know what he is feeling.
“I am glad that you were here when I awoke.” It seems like a weak response, but Merlin smiles. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and another tear falls but when he looks up at me again his eyes are clear.
“Me too.”
I find myself leaning forward slightly as if my body thought it a wise time to embrace the man, but Merlin still looks shaky and I cannot bring myself to. Instead, I seek a distraction.
I sit back down and try to get comfortable in the cushions. “Please sit. Tell me all you have seen. What has happened in Camelot after all these years.”
Merlin chews his lip. He looks at the ground as he sinks into the seat next to me. His fingers twitch nervously on his knee.
“Arthur… “ His eyes flick to mine. “Camelot is gone.”
I’ve seen that kind of sorrow in Merlin’s eyes before, too many times to count. It stirs a steady ache in my gut, each silent second that passes adds another stone of dread in my chest.
“Gone,” I say. I want to add the lilting end of a question into that single word, a shard of hope to the syllable, but I don’t. I know in my heart that it is true. I can see it in Merlin’s eyes and in the slump of his shoulders.
He makes an aborted motion with his hand as if to reach for me, hesitates, then moves forward again until his fingers are wrapped around my shoulder.
“I tried to - there was peace - for a very long time,” Merlin stumbles through his words. “I tried to preserve it. Keep it ready for you to return. I kept the stones from crumbling. Kept the crops from dying. But I couldn’t - you never -” Merlin breaks off. He knows it is not my fault I did not return all those years ago. “The land moved on,” he finishes quietly.
He inhales sharply and I cover his hand with my own to comfort him, even as his words wash over me like freezing water. Maybe I hold his hand just to comfort myself.
“There is nothing left?” Something in me cannot accept it. I know it’s been centuries. I know it’s been too long for anything but Merlin to survive. But it was all so solid when I lived within the castle walls. When I played in the courtyard as a boy. When we danced and sang in the great hall after a successful battle. And it was all but dust now.
Merlin squeezes my shoulder gently. The warmth of his hand does little to soothe me.
“I want to see,” I barely whisper.
His mouth twists as if a bitter taste touched his tongue. He doesn’t want to show me. He doesn’t want to see the look on my face. He doesn’t want the reminder.
He nods and takes my hand again, pulling me toward the door.
I find myself hesitating. Will seeing my home gone break me? Crush me? Or will I find some solace in its absence? Some relief in its resting peace.
My bare feet shuffle listlessly over the steps as the sun hits my face. I look along the shoreline where we have come. Out toward the lake. From here, it looks like nothing has changed.
Merlin stops and turns to me, taking my other hand in his. His eyes harden when they find my own. Not in malice or anger. It’s as if he’s trying to steel himself .
“Ready?”
I grip his hands tighter and nod. I do not trust myself to speak.
He whispers something old and powerful, eyes turning to flame, and suddenly my feet leave the ground. I am weightless, flying like a feather, as Merlin pulls us up, up. My fingers tighten around his wrists instinctively, but I am safe. Merlin would never let me fall.
We rise together over the roof of his little cottage. Past the tops of the trees. The wind ripples my new clothes. Merlin turns his head away from me, his eyes cast downwards. My arms start to tremble and I make myself look.
I see a village, larger than I have ever seen. Little gardens perch behind uniform houses. Smooth roads and bright signs. Shining wagons that move with no horses. There are great towers in the distance, taller than any structure I could have put my mind to.
It’s all so alien. Nothing but the trees remind me of home and those, too seem too young to remember me.
I feel myself shaking. Trembling under the weight of all I’ve lost. I cannot seem to breathe. All the air has left my lungs and my throat is tight and painful. My mind seeks solace in something, anything, but it is a white panicked void that threatens to pull me beneath its dullness.
I feel nothing. I feel too much. I cannot comprehend the terror, the resentment, the grief that consumes me.
What am I doing here? Why has this unseen power beyond my comprehension waited until now? Why couldn’t I have lived a normal life with my friends and my family and-
Merlin's fingers move gently around my wrist. My swirling thoughts seem to diminish to a whisper as I turn my head away from the land before me and rest my gaze on worried eyes.
“Arthur…”
My breath shudders behind my teeth. Merlin’s eyes drift back and forth between my own. So blue. Just like they’ve always been.
Older, though. So much older.
My feet touch the earth again and my legs barely support me. I hadn’t noticed Merlin letting us fall.
“Arthur,” he says again. His voice cracks over the sound of my name. He detaches his arm gently, bringing up his hand to brush the tears from my cheeks. His knuckles are soft against my cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers and I know he means it. But he has nothing to be sorry for.
“I know, I know…” It will be fine. Merlin is here. It’s not his fault. Merlin will care for me. I will be alright. It’s not his fault. “I know, I know, I -”
My knees give out and Merlin slows my descent by a fraction, strong hands on my shoulders, but I still hit the ground with a jolt. He kneels with me. Holds me. Folds his arms around my chest and presses close. I let my body quake. I can do nothing to suppress it anyway. Maybe if I tremble enough here and now I won’t feel the urge late at night when I try to sleep.
Merlin speaks to me. I do not hear the words he says but they bring me comfort anyway. They bring me strength enough to bring my arms up to curl around his shoulders, to embrace him back.
I’m sure we kneel like that for a very long time. I do not remember time ever passing so quickly. But when I start to feel the ache in my knees I know we have stayed there too long. I feel Merlin’s fingers as they drift across my back. I start to hear him again.
He speaks slowly, gently. “It’s alright my friend. I’m here…. I’m here, Arthur. It’s okay… We’re together… It’s okay. I’m here.”
I pull back slightly. Merlin cuts himself off suddenly as if he himself were in a trance. His fingers still on my back, eyes searching mine.
“I’m alright,” I lie. But I will be. I have to be.
Merlin releases me then, lets himself up and I do the same on shaky legs. He gestures to the house and we stumble over the threshold. I don’t like it in here. It’s still foreign. The walls are too smooth and the lights are too bright and Merlin is no longer holding me. He is in the kitchen making something, muttering to himself about old recipes.
I wonder why he doesn’t cook with magic.
Time moves too quickly again and Merlin is setting the table in his little kitchen. The food is ready. He calls me over to sit and I do without thinking. I look down at my plate. Potatoes, chicken, some roasted carrots. I feel Merlin watching me as I take up my knife and fork. I do not feel like eating.
Merlin is very still beside me.
“I’m alright, Merlin.” I muster the strength to look at him. His eyes are wide, mouth open in a small ‘o’, eyebrows raised in anticipation. He shifts his expression as quickly as he can, relaxing back into his chair, an easy smile on his lips, but his eyes still roam over mine curiously.
“I know,” Merlin assures. “You just seemed… quiet.”
Oh gods he must think I’m ignoring him. After all the time he spent alone and all I could do was sit catatonic on a couch for an hour.
“Sorry,” I say quickly. I try and think of a good excuse. “I - I was…” I pause. And then I think I already have a pretty good one. “I think I just need a little time to adjust.”
Merlin’s eyes soften. “Yes. Of course. Of course, you do.” He licks his lips. “Is there anything I can-”
“No.” I cut him off. “Just…” I can’t think of anything that will help me right now except to try and push through everything. “This looks nice.” I gesture to my dinner in hopes of a distraction. “I hope you’ve gotten better at cooking over the years.”
Merlin grins tentatively, his teeth catching on his bottom lip. He keeps looking at me. This is usually the part where he calls me a clotpole and I throw something at him but he doesn’t say anything. I wish that he would.
I spear a potato on the end of my fork and shove it into my mouth. It’s warm and savory and I nearly sigh in relief. At least potatoes haven’t changed much. I stick another. Merlin takes that as a permission to eat and he finally tears his eyes away to focus on his plate. I sense him trying valiantly to not glance at me as I cut into my chicken.
He keeps inhaling as if he’s about to say something, ask me something. I cannot decide whether I want him to or not. The fourth time he inhales, words come out on the other end.
“I know this is all a lot to take in. I know I do not envy your position, but I want this transition to be as pleasant as possible.” He sets his fork down. “Is there any place you’d like to start?” he asks gently.
I shove a rather large piece of chicken in my mouth to give me some time to come up with a response. Where could I possibly start? Does it even matter? Is there a logical way to do this? Chronologically seems like the most obvious, but then it will take me ages to catch up to the present. But if I miss an important detail that happened 400 years ago then it might affect my understanding of what the strange black mirror in the other room is. I, unfortunately, swallow the last of my chicken.
“Merlin, I really don’t know. You’d have a better guess than mine, I’m sure.”
Merlin bites his lip. His fingers shake slightly as he brings the next bite to his mouth. He thinks and chews. I wish I knew how to help. I wish this wasn’t such a burden on him. He swallows his food. I watch his throat move, the tendons tightening as he turns his head to me again.
“Let’s sleep on it. I’ll be honest, I haven’t been getting all that much lately and I think I need some time to process everything. I didn’t think - well, let’s just say I’m not as prepared as I would have hoped.”
Sleep. Gods that sounds wonderful. I’d been sleeping for centuries but the strain of today had taken its toll. I want nothing more than to quiet my raging mind for just a few hours. I nod.
Merlin gives a hopeful little smile. He’s still thinking but I have allowed him some time. I put my fork down and sit back in my chair. Half of my meal still sits on my plate but I cannot bring myself to finish it. He clears my plate without asking, probably to finish off my table scraps down in the kitchens.
No.
He won’t do that anymore. There are no more kitchens. I inhale sharply.
“Arthur?” he calls from the cupboards. I shake my head without looking at him. I’m fine. He doesn’t need to care for my every breath.
I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder. His fingers are steady. I look at my trembling hands in shame.
“Shall I prepare your bed, sire?”
I close my eyes and pretend I am somewhere else. Somewhere those words are not strange. Somewhere that no longer exists. I open my eyes again. My hands have formed fists.
“Yes, Merlin. I think some rest would do me well.”
My shoulder feels cold as his fingers slip away. Maybe I have missed him more than I had thought in some strange way. I watch him clean the dishes. He keeps glancing behind him, perhaps making sure I’m still here. I give him a reassuring smile every time and my belly warms when he smiles back. He finishes his chores quickly and turns back to me.
“Bedroom is down the hall. You can use the bathroom before you head to bed.” His eyebrows fall into a frown. “Sorry, let me show you how that works first. Come on.”
He shows me out the kitchen, past the small sitting room, and down the hall into what he called the bathroom. There are several basins of varying sizes, each white crockery with silver accouterments.
“So,” Merlin starts, “we’ve got your running water in your sink, your toilet, and your bath.” He points to each in turn. “This is the faucet and you can turn this for hot water, and this one for cold.” He twists the handle ever so slightly and water pours out of the spigot instantly, like a dam has broken. He turns it back and the water stops. He goes on to show me how to use the other basins. I watch the water swirl and spiral until it disappears. Merlin looks at me expectantly, eyebrows raised, eyes darting about my face. I realize I have a rather stupid-looking smile on my face, but I can’t tamp it down entirely. The engineering required for such a thing. I never knew Merlin to be an inventor like that. It was impressive, to say the least.
“I think I get the basic concept, thank you, Merlin.”
He grins, and there’s a little bit of that familiarity that I’ve been missing. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. Call for me if you need me.” He ducks out of the tiny room and leaves me to my own devices. I use the toilet and then the sink. I must spend too much time turning the water on and off in quiet fascination because Merlin is knocking on the door.
“You alright in there?”
I turn the water off and open the door. “Sorry. I got a little distracted.” I feel a little embarrassed to admit I was trying to see if the sink would run out.
Merlin’s lips twitch upward. “Understandable. Do you want to keep playing with the water or do you want to go to bed?”
I roll my eyes. “Fine, lead me to my chambers then if you’re so keen to retire for the night.”
I follow him further to the end of the hall, the wooden floor creaking under our feet. When we enter the bedroom and light fills the room, I realize it’s Merlin’s. Of course, it’s Merlin’s. I don’t know why I ever thought otherwise. The room is painted a soft brown with landscape paintings across one wall. There are books everywhere. One wall just seems to be made of them, a patchwork of every color and size wedged into the wall so that removing one seems like an impossibility. His bed sits in front of a large window and is laden with every size of tome imaginable, the majority of them open and sprawling, loose pages and worn ink spread over the covers and onto the floor. I half expect to find some more behind the heavy curtains draped behind the headboard.
“Oh,” Merlin says. “I’m sorry I forgot - I -” He starts picking some of them up off the floor. “I had just - uh.” He seems to realize himself and snaps his fingers. The books slam shut in soft percussion and fly toward the wall of shelves, miraculously fitting themselves into tiny gaps or stacking in front on the floor. “Research,” he finishes lamely.
He shuffles quickly to the edge of the bed and turns down the covers, fidgeting with the blankets, smoothing them out again and again, seemingly unsatisfied. He is not looking at me. I watch him, anyway. He seems restless, his twitchy fingers running over the pillows and picking a stray strand of hair from the sheets.
He must be adjusting. My presence here is a big change. It will probably take some time for us both to adapt.
Merlin huffs as he runs out of things to do, finally turning to me. I smile when his eyes meet mine.
“Can I get you anything else before you go to bed?”
“No, Merlin, this is great. Thank you.”
He bows his head, the corners of his lips twitching upward, and begins to back away toward the door.
“Wait,” I say. Merlin’s eyes snap back to mine. “Where are you sleeping?”
“Oh, um,” his eyebrows come together as if he hadn’t really thought about it. “There’s a couch out there if I get tired.”
I nod, some of my royal approval seeping into the movement. Though I suppose I don’t need it anymore.
“Good night, Arthur,” he says softly.
He flicks the small lever by the side of the door and it door closes with a small click as the light dims. And then I am alone in his room, the only light coming from the window behind the curtains, exhaustion heavy in my limbs, an uneasy restlessness in my mind. I sigh heavily and let my shoulders slump forward just as I used to do whenever I was allowed to be alone with my thoughts. It’s so different now. No one is going to run into Merlin’s bedroom and ask for my presence in the great hall, no page is going to knock hesitantly on my door and ask me if I am ready to attend morning drills with the knights.
A sting of grief prickles at my eyes. No one but Merlin will ever know what I have known. What a lonely thing to think.
I shake my head and brush the covers at the end of Merlin’s bed with my fingers. Everything is so soft here. I shed Merlin’s comfortable tunic and climb into the bed, pulling the covers over me. The blankets smell like Merlin and I find myself sighing again as I let my body melt into the mattress. I try not to think.
It only works for ten minutes.
Why am I here? Now of all times? Who was it that had made Merlin wait so long and so alone? What was the point of it all?
I don’t want him to be alone again. He seems… different now. Not in a bad way, just…
I know I cannot expect everything to be the same, but Merlin is all that I have and I want to cling to every little crumb that I can.
He is different. He looks at me too long, too short. He’s far too silent. What is he thinking about? What will he not speak of? More secrets? Another revelation? Will I have time to process this one, or will I be taken away before I can make things right again?
The thought stirs a deep unease within me. How long am I to be here? What time am I allowed? After all of my time beneath the water’s surface, what if I am pulled beneath it once again? My breath starts to quicken and I pull the sheets tighter around me. The Once and Future King. Am I to live to an infinite future? Will I keep getting pulled away from life and death across the next millennia?
Will Merlin follow?
I shut my eyes tight as if that were all I needed to keep these thoughts at bay, but I can feel them start to spiral. I watch them swirl about a dark and endless drain and suddenly I am getting out of bed and walking towards the door.
Merlin will know the answers. Merlin will be able to help. Merlin -
Is sitting right outside the door.
He looks up at me, his chin rising from where it had been resting on his knees, red coloring his cheeks.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his eyes glance over me and behind me into the room as if something were chasing me as he gets to his feet. “What’s wrong?”
My earlier concerns are replaced by something entirely new. “Are you okay? What are you doing out in the hall?”
He seems to shrink before my eyes, his shoulders slim, his head ducking between them, eyes not meeting mine.
“Merlin…” It’s a question, it’s an encouragement, it’s a request.
He takes a deep breath and he is not so small anymore when he looks at me. He speaks slowly.
“I couldn’t sleep. I wanted…” His jaw flexes but his gaze strengthens. “I have been without you for a very long time and I wanted… to make sure you weren’t going to leave again.”
His cheeks are still pink when he looks at the ground.
There is some comfort in knowing that we are afraid of the same thing. That it’s not just me.
“I was worried, too,” I say. I watch his eyes morph in surprise. “I don’t want to leave either.”
I just got here. I know nothing of this place, but it has Merlin. If there is a chance that there will come a day where I must leave him again, be dragged beneath the cold waters again, I don’t want to waste our time together with worry. But I am not so naive to think that these fears will just dissolve overnight.
“Merlin I don’t know why I’m here, but I know that if it is within my power to stay here, with you… then I will. I want to stay with you.”
If it was possible Merlin’s blush seems to deepen. But he smiles and that is all that really matters.
“I know.” He looked back down the hall where his couch lay. “I just have to get used to… well, I’ll leave you to sleep, Arthur.”
We don’t move. He just keeps looking at me and I don’t want him to stop.
“I don’t think I can sleep,” I say. “I-”
Merlin blinks in concern when my voice stumbles, searching for the words. I don’t want him to know how scared I am, how helpless I feel, but at the same time, I wish to confide in him. I want him to confide in me. For all the lost years and buried secrets, I want things to be … open. Shared. Together.
“I don’t want this to have been a dream.”
Merlin’s eyes soften. I see the tears begin to gather, but they do not fall. He’s always been so emotional.
He embraces me, the movement almost too quick for me to follow, but I find myself holding him just as tightly. He is warm and solid beneath my fingers. He smells of sandalwood. I can feel his heart against my chest and hear his breath as he tucks his chin into my shoulder. Not even in my most vivid dreams, could I have ever imagined something like this.
“I dreamt about you.” Merlin’s voice is candlelight, flickering but warm. “All the time at first. I missed you. And then time went on and our home was lost and I didn’t dream as much. I dreamt of other things.” He huffs a mirthless breath. “But then every once and a while, I’d see you again. In my dreams. They were only memories. I couldn’t -” He moves his hands across my back to hold me tighter, presses his temple against my ear. “They weren’t real.”
I slide my hand up his back to touch the nape of his neck. It’s all the comfort I know how to give.
“I got to see your face again, though. In those dreams. You laughed and spoke to me. I never remembered what you said.”
I shut my eyes. I don’t want to cry right now.
“But you’re here now. You’re not a dream.”
I feel him breathe deeply, his back expanding beneath my arms.
“You’re not a dream,” he repeats like he’s talking to himself.
I am not a dream. We’re both here. Together. When everything else has turned to dust. We should just be happy.
I pull my head away from him so that I can see his face. He doesn’t try to hide the tracks his tears have left.
“Let’s not dream, then,” I say suddenly. I step away from him to pull him through the door into his room. “Come on. There are years and years for me to learn about.” I sit on his bed and pat the covers next to me. “We can stay up all night and never sleep.”
Merlin sits on the bed nervously.
“ You want a history lesson?”
“Don’t look at me like that. You never saw me when I was studying.”
“No, but I saw you whenever you had to look over monthly economic reports and trade treaties.”
“This is different,” I argue, reclining on the bed, propping myself up on my elbows. I grin at him. “This is a whole new world to me. I couldn’t possibly get bored.”
Not when Merlin knows all the answers. Not when he’s my sole guide through this terrifying forest that is the future.
Merlin laughs. “God, it’s been years since I taught…”
“You were a scholar?”
“A professor, for a time.”
“They let you teach prophecy?”
“What? No - I - I taught history. A professor is a type of teacher. A tutor. At a school.” Merlin winces and falls back onto the bed. He eyes the ceiling wearily. “This is going to be an interesting endeavor.”
I know my face is heated. It’s probably red. I shouldn’t be embarrassed. It’s not my fault I don’t know anything. But I do want to learn.
I want things to go back to normal between us. For us to have normal conversations. But I can’t do that if I know only a fifth of what Merlin speaks of. I lay back on the bed and turn my head so that I can see him. His eyes rack back and forth as he searches for answers. His lips twitch as if trying to form words.
I reach out and touch his arm. He looks at me. His irises are so blue against the redness that surrounds them. Blue and gold. That’s what Merlin is. Sapphire and sunlight. Ocean and ichor. My breath hitches for a moment. I missed him.
“Let’s start with something small. Something easy.”
Merlin bites his lip thoughtfully. Then he grins. “Well, it’s not exactly small.”
He looks back at the ceiling, raises his arm to the sky, and whispers something ancient.
The room brightens as tiny flames - no, fireflies - no, something else entirely - shimmer and morph into lines and curves, connecting and splitting until they settle, suspended in the air.
“A map?” I ask.
“Of the world,” Merlin affirms, and I can hear the smile in his voice even when I cannot take my eyes off of the glowing picture above us.
He scoots closer to me, our shoulders touching, and points to a little bit of land in the middle of the map. I follow his finger, and I think it glows just a little bit brighter, defined against the darkness of the ceiling.
“That’s where we are.”
I turn my head to him in disbelief. I forgot he had moved closer.
“That little thing? That’s where we are?”
Merlin drops his hand onto his stomach. “The world’s a lot bigger than any of us realized.”
My mind reeled. It was hard enough to be a leader of one kingdom. A kingdom apparently dwarfed by the rest of the world.
“ That was all there when we were…” I don’t know how to finish the sentence.
“Yes. A few more islands, back then, I suppose. Although I have heard they’re building those now so I guess-”
“But it’s so…”
“Wait till I tell you about Jupiter.”
We look at each other. He’s smiling, genuinely. I think my smile probably comes off as hysterical because suddenly, I’m laughing. A slightly panicked sound, but then Merlin is laughing too. The absurdity starts to get to me. I’m overwhelmed again, but the panic in my laughter is almost equal to the sound of my relief. Relief that it is Merlin guiding me through the rest of my feelings. Patient and kind and maybe just as overwhelmed as I am. I cannot imagine doing this alone.
Our laughter calms to easy smiles.
“Show me,” I say.
And Merlin does. His little lights show me the continents of the Earth, the oceans that are miles deep. He shows me the globe, the sphere of our world, and how it spins. He shows me the sun and the planets that circle her. And he shows me the stars.
I don’t remember most of it. There is so much information and his voice is so soft. It washes over me in quiet waves and the flickering lights above me seem gentler than before. I start to wonder how he remembers all of this instead of actually listening to what he is saying. I let my eyes close and try to focus. Merlin’s arm is warm against mine.
I fall asleep under his stars and I dream that I am home.