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Merlin thinks that he should be used to it by now. Being left behind. Being forgotten. It is not the first time it happened to him. Hell, it is not the first time it happened this year. It should not have come as a surprise.
Nonetheless, he has to admit he had not expected it from Arthur.
He called for him as the Dolma, trying to remind him that he was about to leave without him. He watched him leave anyway, a serene smile on his lips as if everything was right in the world again, while Mordred -Mordred!- looked back at him with uncertainty.
(The only reason Mordred left is because Merlin, still disguised as the Dolma, gestured for him to go on and this, this, hurts. Merlin has been nothing but nasty to Mordred since they found each other again in Ismere. Merlin left Mordred alone after they were attacked by Morgana on their way to the Cauldron of Arianrhod, and yet, Mordred was still the one to turn back for him and worry for him and
(If Mordred is not Arthur's Bane, then, who is?
Himself.)
maybe it is punishment. Punishment for failing to return magic to the land. Punishment for turning Arthur against magic. Punishment for failing to get rid of Mordred, or maybe for failing to help him, who knows? Punishment for failing at being Emrys.)
The Dochraid told him he was no friend of the Old Religion, despite recognizing him as Emrys. Isn’t it proof that, despite his efforts, Merlin has failed destiny?
What efforts?
Merlin failed to help Morgana in her time of need and she turned against Camelot. Merlin failed to kill Morgana and she lives for killing Arthur and destroying Camelot.
Merlin failed to save Uther and Arthur now hates magic. The Dolma told Arthur to try and see there is good in magic and Arthur forgot Merlin; the other -magical- side of his coin.
Merlin opposed the return of magic in Camelot to kill Mordred, and now the Ban against Magic remains while Mordred lives.
Yes, maybe this is punishment. A fair and just punishment for Merlin being a failure.
He is not meant to be a great savior, he is not meant to stand at Arthur’s side nor to have a seat at the Round Table, he is not meant for anything.
Merlin is meant to remain alone and forgotten.
*
“Are you alright, friend?”
“Depends on what you mean by ‘alright’.”
Merlin frowns, momentarily confused by the voice, and looks up to see a blond man standing above him. The man gives him a gentle, if not concerned, smile and offers him a waterskin.
Merlin shakes his head no.
The man gestures at the rock Merlin sits on. “May I?”
Merlin shrugs, unconcerned.
The man comes to sit at his side. He does not touch him but he sits close enough his body’s natural warmth starts sipping into Merlin.
The sun has slowly gone down, he realizes suddenly, leaving him cold.
“How long have you been here, friend?”
“Since my own friends left me here.”
He can feel the stranger look at him. “Are you waiting for them to come back?”
Merlin slowly blinks. He stares at the spot he last saw Arthur and Gwen and Mordred before they vanished from sight. He does not know what he expects, he knows they are not coming back.
“No,” he replies. “I’m not.”
“Then why are you still here?”
(There was a time Merlin would have cried at the thought of being abandoned. All his tears have dried up. He is not certain of when it happened but sometimes between Gwen’s coronation and today, his hopes faded. His fears as well. Merlin no longer hopes to be recognized or accepted. Merlin no longer fears the pyre or Arthur’s hatred.
Merlin feared Arthur leaving him behind. That was the only thing left to feel.
Today, Arthur made that fear real.
What is left to feel?)
“I don’t know.”
The stranger falls silent at his side.
Merlin keeps on staring at the spot he last saw Arthur.
“If your friends left without you and if they aren’t coming back, can they really be called your friends?”
Merlin frowns. He detaches his gaze from the spot and turns his head to face the stranger.
The stranger is not looking at him. “I have a friend who always says: if you love them and they love you, they will always find you.” He looks at him, still with that gentle smile on his face.
Merlin blinks at him.
“Do your friends love you like you love them?”
No, he thinks, the answer instinctive. For Merlin would never abandon his friends. Merlin would never believe the worst of them. Merlin would never forget about them.
(He thinks about waking up alone in Ismere. He thinks about spending the night in the dungeons after an enchanted Gwen accused him of poisoning Arthur. He thinks about today and how Arthur turned his back on him without an afterthought.)
(Lancelot wouldn't have done that.)
“No, I don’t believe they do.”
The stranger nods. “Do you wish to leave? We can spend the night here if you don’t. But I know a warm place not far from here. It doesn't have beds but at least we’ll be out of the cold.”
“Why?”
The stranger does not depart from his smile. “Why what?”
“You know nothing about me, apart from the fact my friends left me. Why would you propose to stay with me? Shouldn’t their actions push you to leave too?”
“I think the fact they left you says more about them than about you. As of knowing nothing about you: I know you’ve been sitting here for the better part of the day, staring at the path your friends must have taken without moving. I know that, if you believe they aren’t coming back, it’s probably because this isn’t the first time this happened. I know that, while you’re not saying it and may not believe it, you’re in need of companionship. I don’t need to know your name to know that.”
“You’re a perceptive man.”
The man laughs, something bright and loud. An image of Arthur appears in his mind before Merlin blinks it away. He does not want to think about Arthur right now.
“I’m not sure about this.” He shrugs. “I used to be a shepherd. I could always tell when one of my sheep was unwell. I’ll keep on saying that sheep and animals in general are easier to read than humans.”
“They’re more loyal too.”
The man nods, tranquil. “They are.”
“I think I’d rather stay the night here.”
The stranger nods again. He grins at him, a quiet joy still emanating from him. “I’ll stay with you.”
Merlin does not have the heart to tell him he is not worth it, that he should go and leave him as well.
In truth, he does not want solitude to come back.
The stranger reclines upon the rock, until his back is laid upon it and he is gazing at the dark sky.
Merlin joins him in his contemplation of the sky. He does not think about who must be resting under that same sky at a campfire, surrounded by their wife and their knight. He does not think about the view he has from his room’s window in Camelot. He does not think about anything.
He simply stares at the sky and lets companionship settle over him like a warm blanket.
*
Arthur is not here when he wakes up.
(Why would he?)
Merlin is not surprised.
(He bites his lower lip and blinks away the tears that had been absent the previous day.)
Merlin is not surprised. Arthur probably has not even realized Merlin is missing.
(Nevermind that Arthur would have once upon a time and Arthur would have gone searching for him, no matter that he was a king and Merlin one servant among many.)
Arthur will probably groan about Merlin’s absence after a few days passed without Merlin and curse him for failing his duties, not recognizing if Merlin is not here it’s because of no fault of his own.
(It seems Arthur has finally learned their place in this world. Maybe it’s time Merlin does as well.)
Merlin knows he should walk back towards Camelot. He should have started the day prior, the moment Mordred had turned back to look at him with those too guileless eyes; eyes that do not belong to a knight, eyes that do not belong to a traitor or to a murderer.
(If Mordred is not Arthur's Bane, then, who is?
Himself.)
He should have caught up to Arthur and Gwen and Mordred by night and settled at the campfire and endured Arthur’s teasing and Gwen’s soft laugh and Mordred’s apologetic gazes.
A hand comes to settle upon his left shoulder. “Do you wish to leave?”
The tears that failed to show yesterday and that have come this morning threaten to spill. Merlin does not know how he can feel upset today when he felt nothing the previous day.
(Arthur has not come back, that’s why. Merlin had known he would not come back; from the moment Arthur turned away with a calm, happy smile, so glad to have his queen back. Merlin had known and yet Merlin had stayed and waited all day, and waited all night for his friend to prove him wrong. He had waited for Arthur to wake him and curse him and crow about of course I wouldn’t leave you Merlin, how dare you think so lowly of your king?
But Arthur is not here.
Despite everything, Merlin still had faint hopes that Arthur would return for him and Arthur dashed them all.)
I have a friend who always says: if you love them and they love you, they will always find you.
Well, now Merlin knows where they all stand, doesn’t he?
“I shouldn’t,” he says anyway because Destiny decided Merlin should live and burn for Arthur and for Camelot and for Albion and Merlin has ruined everything else, the least he could do is to return to Camelot and burn at the end of the story. Shouldn’t he?
“What do you want?”
Merlin huffs but does not dislodge the man’s hand from his shoulder. “This was never about what I want.”
“Then, isn’t it about time it was?”
Merlin stops breathing.
Isn’t it about time it was? Such simple words and yet they threaten to unravel him. He thinks he can remember the boy he was, once, before Destiny came to rest on his shoulders and started crushing him. He had had dreams once and had wanted to make a life on his own.
(But Destiny. Arthur. Mordred is supposed to kill Arthur and Merlin is supposed to stop him so Arthur can live and can build Albion and return magic to the land.)
(If Mordred is not Arthur's Bane, then, who is?
Himself.)
He turns his head and catches the stranger’s eyes. “I don’t want to come back. But I don’t think I’ve got a choice.”
There is too much understanding in the man’s eyes, as if he knows what Merlin feels, as if he went through the same thing. Maybe, he did.
“We all have a choice, even when it feels like we don’t. Maybe, especially, when we feel like we don’t. I can’t promise you you won’t come to regret this but don’t you want to give yourself a chance and see where life could lead you?”
“Where did life lead you?”
The stranger smiles, still bright and content. “It led me to great people and good adventures. It led me to you. I don't think it's bad, do you?”
Merlin stares at the spot he last saw Arthur. Slowly, so tentative the gesture could be misinterpreted for shy, he shakes his head.
“No, I don’t think it is.”
Merlin has failed everything until now. Kilgharrah tried to tell him it was Destiny and Gaius tried to convince him that as long as he did it for Arthur’s good, and Gwen and the knights and Camelot’s, he could not be blamed. But Merlin only ever lived for them and only ever made things worse. Maybe, it is time he starts to live for himself. The consequences then, should he fail again, would only impact him and not a whole kingdom and its inhabitants.
(Merlin led Arthur astray and everyone told him it was Destiny. Maybe, without Merlin, Arthur will finally make the right decisions. Maybe, without Merlin to push Arthur in one direction and Mordred in the other, Merlin won’t pit them against each other and lead Arthur to his death.)
(If Mordred is not Arthur's Bane, then, who is?
Himself.)
“Yes, I want to try.”
*
(It takes too long for Arthur to realize Merlin is not in the Citadel, and not simply at the tavern. It takes too long for Arthur to realize if Merlin is not at his side, it’s because Arthur made sure he would not be. It takes too long for Arthur to remember he left his friend behind and never came back for him.
When he realizes what he has done, he orders his horse be harnessed and gallops toward the Cauldron of Arianrhod.
When he arrives, he is dismayed to find neither Merlin nor the sorceress.
Only a garment he identifies as the sorceress’ dress.
Only his mother's sigil that he had given to Merlin years ago.
Arthur recognizes the gesture for what it is and feels his heart shatter to smithereens.
Arthur would blame the sorceress for this if he did not remember how she had tried to warn him and how he refused to listen. In truth, he has no one to blame but himself.
He grips his mother's sigil into a tight grasp and roars in pain, not as a king but as a beast in agony.)
*
The stranger’s name is David.
David, Merlin learns, smiles kind, and touches gentle and loves warm.
While Merlin is wary of calling David a friend (for his former friends all left him or forgot about him or died on him), Merlin is secure in the knowledge he won’t lead him astray.
His name is David and his smiles make Merlin kind again, his touch leaves Merlin gentle again and his love warms his heart again.
(Arthur’s image no longer superposes upon David's face. David remains David and Merlin feels a little less hollow everyday that they spend together.)
Merlin does not know what the future is made of (he is not a Seer like Morgana, does not read Destiny like Kilgharrah) but he can see how bright it is in David’s smile, can read how welcoming it is in David’s touch, can feel how loving it can become in David’s embrace.
Merlin has yet to regret not returning to Camelot. He can only hope he never will have a reason to.
(Arthur had dashed his hopes, once. David is reviving them day after day after day.
David holds the embers of Merlin’s hopes and dreams in the palms of his kind hands and blows over them everyday, making them grow. Merlin feels his heart grow with them.)
*
Merlin had never wished to turn his back on Arthur.
But Merlin would say that Arthur did it first.
It could be considered a childish argument but it would also be nothing but the truth.
Merlin had never meant to leave Arthur. Arthur left first and Merlin chose not to follow.
*
(Arthur comes back alone in Camelot.)
(He will never forgive himself but he will learn to live with his regrets. Unbeknown to him, he will live longer than he should have had Merlin remained.
It could never make his heart lighter.)