Chapter Text
There’s quite a few wars and no Arthur.
There’s a World War and no Arthur.
There’s a WTF second World War. And no Arthur.
Merlin breaks a little at that. He’s been remarkably strong throughout it all, having to say goodbye to everyone and put up with not interfering every time humanity has a collective lack of braincells, but only because he knows Arthur will come back in the time of Albion’s greatest need, but… What’s worse than two World Wars? He goes on a drinking binge that ends in some unexpected global weather changes, a meteor shower and a really pissed off dragon sitting on him until he relinquishes the bottle of tequila and promises to consider therapy. To be fair to Kilgharrah, Merlin had also been singing Armstrong’s ‘All of Me’ to him for three days straight by then. Merlin would have smothered himself too had their roles been reversed.
He sulks for a while after that. About 5 years. Which is really not very long all things considered, but Kilgharrah threatens to sit on him again and suggests he go see the druids rather than continuing all the useless pouting. Merlin hears Kilgharrah muttering something along the lines of “…greatest sorcerer my scaly…” just as his magic whisks him off to the latest iteration of what passes for druids in the middle of the 20th Century.
The druids have their own little break down when Merlin pops up, relatively literally, in their midst. It’s hilarious, but not what he’s there for (this time. He has previously entertained himself by randomly popping up in druid camps throughout the country and across the centuries. Being the walking embodiment of their beliefs has to have some perks given all their cryptic crap he has had to put up with). He has a lovely chat with the head druid whatshisname and finds out that they’ve actually been having a good look over some of the old prophecies. Merlin, it turns out, is not the only one losing a little faith over the lack of the return of a certain blond dollophead.
And they got it wrong.
“They what?”
“Wrong. They misinterpreted it.” Whatshisname is excited and has no idea Merlin is about ten seconds away from having the meltdown to end all meltdowns. Possibly literally. He is really rather stupidly powerful in his old age.
“Explain. Quickly. Less excitedly.”
Whatshisname pales and does as he’s told. The druids of old saw the prophecy through the crystals in the cave. Merlin nods. They then had to figure out what they saw. Merlin nods again. To do this they talked over what they saw with the other elders. Merlin crosses his arms. Whatshisname talks faster.
“In the time of the prophecy, the elders had no concept of life on the atomic scale, not like we do now. Given the way that science and magic can blend together in the modern era, and all the knowledge we now have to hand, plus the old texts and scrolls-“
Merlin uncrosses his arms and clenches his fists.
“They got it wrong and we think it has to do with atomic restructure rather than world need.” Whatshisname finishes in a very impressive rush.
Merlin blinks. “What?”
“The old interpretation was that The Once and Future King would come back when the world was ready for him, which was then put into prophecy as when the world needed him. But we think it means when the world is ready for him, literally. When everything has come full circle and aligned, down to the atomic level, to be just as it was all over again. In so much as things can be.”
Merlin blinks again. Then promptly sits down in the damp leaf matter covering the forest floor. “Just as it was? What in the… it’s never going to be just as it was! How can that even… it was all a lie?”
“No, no, truly, he’s coming, it’s just that, from what we think now, it won’t necessarily be because of a crisis. It might even be that his return will bring about the crisis.”
“What?” Merlin roars, truly roars, his Dragonspeak taking over in his shock and rage.
Whatshisname doesn’t so much sit in the leaf matter as collapse onto it. He might be trembling, but Merlin only cares that he doesn’t pass out before explaining himself. Words are not his friends at the moment though, so he settles for glaring. Whatshisname is smart enough to understand.
“Because it will all come back. Or rather they will all come back. Everything will align. The world has moved on so the situation, the backdrop has changed, but all the players will be there and since they will be the same on an atomic level, they will presumably act just as they did the first-time round. I mean, there are all these studies on nature versus nurture, but magic and balance being what it is, well…” He spreads his arms and looks hopefully at Merlin, probably trying to gauge if his explanation has been enough to prevent more roaring.
It has been, but only because utter confusion tinged with the beginnings of understanding have replaced Merlin’s anger.
Merlin curls in on himself, ploughing through what he’s just been told. Whatshisname manages to sit still for about an hour, but then he starts to fidget.
“Do you want me to-“
“No.”
“Then can I-“
“Not yet.”
They fall back into silence for another hour before Merlin lets the man scurry off to wherever. In truth, he didn’t really need him to stick around for even that long, but misery loves company and Merlin is feeling a truly miserable bastard in this moment.
He leaves without saying goodbye, simply disappearing from them and reappearing next to Kilgharrah. The old dragon lifts his head from where he lay sleeping, takes one look at Merlin, and gathers him in under his wing. The heat and the noise of him lulls Merlin to sleep. When he wakes, explains everything, and cries, Kilgharrah draws him in again and purrs him to sleep all over again.
And then, they wait.