Hope of the Immortal - ArtemisPendragon (2024)

It took three hundred years for Merlin to begin to doubt the prophecy, and only another fifty for him to beg the Triple Goddess to reunite him and Arthur, either on Earth or in Avalon. He wasn’t picky. The world had changed so much in such a short amount of time that he no longer felt connected to it, and he had grown tired of using his immortality to defend kingdoms and nations that would sooner see him burned or drowned or beheaded than honored or praised. His last thread of hope snapped the day Camelot fell to invaders, the day Gwen was slain and the last of the Round Table was butchered in bloody battle.

He’d left Camelot for good that day, his face streaked with tears and blood, as the ruins of the city burned behind him. He carried only what he could not bear to leave behind, mementos of each of his friends: Gaius’ medicine bag, Gwen’s favorite bracelet, Morgana’s circlet, Percy’s secret book of well-loved poems, Elyan’s softest leather gloves, Gwaine’s pendant, Leon’s dagger, and Lancelot’s sword. He had enchanted a small bag to be able to hold it all.

Fearing the looming shadows that the future was already beginning to cast, Merlin had poured his most treasured memories of his friends into their respective belongings. After the incidents with the serkhet and the Dorocha, Merlin knew he was no mortal man. The name given to him by the druids - Emrys - only solidified that belief. He could see all of time stretching out before him, filled with yet unknown histories, threatening to fill him with innumerable experiences that would doubtless overtake all of his most treasured recollections of his first true home. He had to preserve them, and so consulted with his magic until he turned the tokens into flawless vessels for the chosen memories.

He also had a brooch bearing Ygraine’s sigil, given to him by Arthur, as well as Arthur’s Camelot-red cloak, plus Excalibur. He didn’t trust invading armies to not search every inch of the fallen kingdom for the legendary blade, so he took it with him. It was one of the rare decisions that both he and Kilgharrah had agreed upon. As soon as he had everything, he bought passage on a ship and left the ruins of Albion behind.

For three and a half centuries, Merlin travelled the continent, exploring the cultures that developed and the cities they built. He rarely spent too much time in one place. He couldn’t afford to get attached again. Losing Camelot, losing his friends, was too painful. The grief and guilt often plagued his dreams, so he simply avoided sleeping. He quickly discovered that his immortality extended to constant wakefulness. It did little to assuage the feelings that his subconscious didn’t want him to ignore, though.

They continued to torment him, despite his best efforts, and one day, he had enough. He returned to the Lake of Avalon for the first time since he buried the last of his friends and sank to his knees, the rocky shore biting into his skin. “Freya!” he called to the misty waters, his eyes shining and his body trembling. “Freya, please!” he begged, his voice breaking as he bit down a sob. “I can’t- I can’t do it! I can’t do it anymore. Please. Everyone’s gone. I’m the only one left.” Merlin slumped forwards, digging his palms into the stones and grass. He was whispering now, tears running down his cheeks and onto the ground below. “I’m tired, Freya. Tired of grief. Tired of hope. Tired of wondering if this - all of this - is worth anything to the Goddess. I just- I can’t. I can’t .”

The surface of the lake rippled and broke, and the watery ghost of his first love approached him on the shore. She kneeled beside him and held him as he wept and raged and grieved as he never let himself grieve before. He let everything out into the earth and seas and skies, let his magic flow freely, trusting it to hide them from view.

Freya watched as tendrils of magic seeped outwards from her warlock, turning the sky dark with clouds and the waters of the lake choppy and grey. Even with centuries of practice and restraint, his powers still lashed out whenever he let his emotions take control. Merlin’s sobs devolved to wails of anguish and pain and sorrow that pulled lightning from the heavens to strike the land. The tremors of the earth matched those that wracked his body, rending the ground and sending massive waves crashing against the rocky bank. Fat, heavy drops of cold rain poured down in torrents and soaked Merlin to the bone.

There he stayed, on his hands and knees before the lake, pouring his heart and magic out into the unforgiving world. The thunder did little to cover the sound of his sobs.

Slowly, the magic began to recede back into him. The rolls of thunder grew sparser and quieter. The lake began to calm, and the fissures in the earth started to heal themselves. A few trees had been toppled during the storm, blackened by lightning strikes, and they were the sole reminders of the mage’s turmoil once all else had returned to as they had been before.

Merlin sat back on his haunches, shivering from the cold and exhaustion, his eyes red and puffy. He used the sleeve of his tunic to wipe the tears from his cheeks, and Freya watched, wishing she could do something to ease his pain. But she, too, was familiar with grief, so she knew that there was little that could be done.

“Merlin,” she said softly, taking his free hand in hers. “Breathe, my love,” she told him as he coughed, his throat dry and raw from the force of his breakdown. He gasped, taking in broken, shuddering breaths that hitched every other second. “That’s it,” she soothed, running her other hand along his back. “It’s going to be alright.”

“H-how can- can it be al-alright?” he croaked, looking at her with tears still shining in his eyes. “They’re- They’re gone! Ar-Arthur’s gone!” His voice broke on the name of his old friend, and he swallowed one last sob. “He didn’t come back when- when Camelot fell. There isn’t any Albion for him to come back for!”

Freya gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Have faith, Merlin. The Goddess wouldn’t have given you such a fate if she thought it wouldn’t come to pass. Arthur’s soul hasn’t left for the Beyond. Let that give you some comfort. If not in the Goddess, then in him.”

“He always was the most stubborn prat I ever met,” he breathed with a short, shaky laugh. “If anyone would fight the gods to stay here, it would be him.”

Freya smiled, her expression soft. She was one of the very few who had ever known the depths of Merlin’s feelings for his king. “What will you do now?” she asked, rubbing her thumb along Merlin’s knuckles.

He sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know. I meant what I said, Freya. I don’t know if I can do this much longer.” He wiped the last of the tears off his face. “I feel old. Tired. I just want to rest. If I could wait in the lake with Arthur, I would. I might go mad if I keep letting myself hope for a miracle that could still be centuries or millennia away.”

They both fell silent, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Merlin closed his eyes, weighed down by exhaustion, and let himself indulge in his memories of Camelot, of Arthur. He remembered watching the knights train, their armor and chainmail shining in the sun. He remembered all the time he snuck out of the city to save someone’s life (usually Arthur’s). He remembered the fatherly smile on Gaius’ face whenever Merlin chose to do the right thing, and the Eyebrow of Disapproval whenever he was being particularly stubborn or thick. He recalled his first few days in Camelot - meeting Gwen while in the stocks, fighting Arthur twice in as many days, and learning of his destiny from a dragon chained under the castle. How he survived his first week was still a mystery to him.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but when he next opened his eyes, his legs were numb and the sun was beginning to set. Freya was still beside him, watching the lake, their hands still clasped. He grunted in discomfort as he settled his rear onto the shore, taking his weight off his legs, which immediately began to tingle as blood rushed back into them. He was still no closer to finding a solution to his misery, but for now, he could say he was content.

So when Freya spoke, it startled him a bit. “I was thinking, while you were… meditating,” she began. His eyes snapped over to her face, which looked both serene and troubled. “I might have an idea. Not a perfect one, maybe not even a good one, but it’s still an idea.” She glanced over at Merlin, who nodded at her to continue. “Do you remember that time you turned a statue of a dog into a living creature?” she asked him.

He blinked, confused for a moment. “Well, yes, but what does that have to do with-?”

“We might be able to use something similar in nature to turn you into a living statue.” She paused, giving him a moment to process what she had said. “I told the Goddess about my idea, and she gave me some help. But Merlin, it won’t be perfect,” she warned him, taking both of his hands in hers. “You’ll retain a minimal level of consciousness, just enough so your body will still function when you’re restored. The Goddess and I will watch the world, and when Arthur returns, we can have his touch be the thing that reawakens your spirit. There’s one major problem with this plan, though.”

“I’ll need someone to change my body back with magic once he actually returns,” Merlin said, his shoulders falling.

“Yes, but we might be able to do something about that. If we work the reversal spell into the original one and have it activate only under certain conditions, we could make it so that no one needs to cast any magic at all in order to restore you. But it’s a risk. We’ll have no idea if it will work,” she warned him.

Merlin fell quiet, thinking it over. He knew the risk associated with untested magic, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to withstand waiting for Arthur for much longer without completely losing himself to grief. He looked around them, breathing in the crisp air of early spring. The stars had started to peek out in the darkening sky, shining down on them like jewels in an endless, dark crown. He could feel the pulse of magic in the earth under his hands, beating in time to his own heart. There would be other things he would miss as well, but these were the most important to him. He wanted to commit them to memory, just in case.

He took a deep breath, turned to Freya, and asked:

“Where do we start?”

Approx. 1,200 years later…

The statue had long been a fixture in London. As far as anyone could remember, the stone man had stood tall and protective upon its marble plinth, staring out across the city with bright, watchful eyes. Visitors often remarked upon its lifelike realism, like the curls of its hair and the angular lines of its hands and face. It never needed restoration, either; the harsh ravages of time seemed to avoid it completely.

For someone worthy of a statue, the man wore simple clothes. A plain tunic, made of rough cotton, hung from his bony shoulders, covered by a leather jacket that had clearly been worn many times. Unremarkable trousers hung from his narrow hips and waist, disappearing into leather boots that had clearly seen better days. The man’s neck was decorated by a scrap of cloth, folded into a triangle and tied at the back to serve as a neckerchief. A pouch hung from his belt on one side.

On the other side was the only remarkable item on his person: a sheath, with a sword’s pommel and hilt peeking out from under his coat. His left hand rested loosely on the hilt, his thumb pressed against the pommel as if in the middle of rubbing it. His other hand was flat against his leg, making it look like the “fabric” of the pants was rumpled under his fingers.

On the plinth, just under the statue’s feet, was a bronze plaque. It, too, never needed cleaning or repair, and the words on it remained as clear as the day they were carved into the metal. “Whoever holds dominion over this man of stone / Need only touch it to turn him to flesh and bone.” The words had been memorized by fans of the statue, and more than one scholar had written a paper on the meaning behind them. Despite the dissertations, blog posts, and online conspiracy theories (which ranged from a prankster lost to history, to a government time-travel plot and missing people cases), no one had ever come any closer to figuring out who the mystery man was supposed to be, why he was worthy of immortality-by-stone, or who might be able to break the supposed enchantment.

The mystery of it all was what brought them to the park in the city. Well, it really only brought Gwen and Morgana there, who, in turn, brought Morgana’s half-brother, Arthur, and his mates from football with them. The young women, especially Morgana, were lovers of unsolved riddles and tragic romances, and they had begged Arthur to go with them because “Gwen’s birthday was just last week, Arthur, honestly , can’t we all go out and do this one thing for her?” And Arthur knew far, far better than to argue with his sister, especially when her best friend was involved.

That’s how an overjoyed pair of girls and a reluctant football team’s worth of young men came to arrive at Avalon Park. The team’s goalkeeper, Lance, had brought along a spare ball for them to kill time with while the girls got their full of the mysterious statue.

The team, which, for all intents and purposes, was full of adults, soon got tired of simply running drills and instead began what they did best: bantering.

“Careful with that praise, Lance, or Arthur’s head might get bigger than the ball!” Gwaine shouted as he passed to Elyan, who snickered at the indignant look on the blonde’s face.

“Might?” Elyan asked innocently, passing to Percy, who grinned.

“Yeah, you’re right, El. It’s already well past that point,” the large man said with a resigned sigh. Gwaine began to cackle, as did Lance.

Arthur shot a look at Leon, motioning with his hands as if to say “Do something!” Luckily, it seemed like his best mate got the message.

“Eyes on the ball, gentlemen,” he said sternly, giving each of them a look, then glanced back at Arthur. “After all, we don’t want to make a mistake and accidentally kick Arthur in the head instead.”

The whole team broke down in jeers and laughter. Arthur glared at Leon, looking utterly betrayed, and stomped off to where he had last seen Gwen and Morgana, ignoring the team calling him back behind him.

Luckily, they were both still at the base of the statue, surrounded by tourists who were taking selfies and videos with the famous stone man. They were the only two who seemed to be interested in the statue for its mystery instead of its novelty. Arthur tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans and strolled over.

“Discover anything interesting?” he asked casually, staring up at the life-sized man. For some reason, it made him shiver, and he quickly looked away.

Morgana turned to her brother, wearing a small frown. “Nothing that hasn’t been discovered in the last millennium, I’m sure,” she said, sounding disappointed.

Gwen joined in. “We both had a go at touching it, but nothing happened. Obviously. I felt like a complete tourist doing it, too,” she said with a blush. Morgana looped her arm around Gwen’s shoulders.

“I think you looked sweet. If anyone could free him, it would be someone like you,” she cooed, giving her a hug. Gwen, as always, looked flustered by the praise. After a moment, Morgana looked at Arthur and raised an eyebrow at him, sending him one of her Smirks. “Why don’t you try it, brother dear?” she purred.

Arthur blinked at her, taken aback by the suggestion. “Wha- Me? Why me?” he sputtered.

“Because, it’ll be good for a laugh,” Gwaine said as the rest of the team came up to the statue. His arm was slung around Percy’s waist, which seemed to be making the taller man blush. “If anything, it’ll make his head deflate so it doesn’t look like a football as much.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Going to remind me about that for a while, aren’t you?” he asked with a groan.

“Yep,” Gwaine responded, popping the p with a sh*t-eating grin.

Lance made his way over to Gwen, planting a kiss on her forehead and murmuring something into her ear that made her smile shyly. Morgana watched them for a moment, then nodded to herself and made her way towards Arthur. “We all know it isn’t going to work anyways. It’s just a silly story, right?” she asked, eyes twinkling with mischief and mirth.

Arthur huffed, shaking his head. “Fine, if it’ll shut you up,” he grumbled. Morgana smiled gleefully and stood off to the side, gesturing at the statue.

A bit of a crowd had formed in the park as people gathered to eat picnic lunches and swap gossip with each other. Most had already tried their hand at trying to free the statue, so the paved stones around it were clear, save Arthur and his group. It was the perfect time to try. So why did he feel so nervous? He looked up at the man’s face and shivered again. It’s just nerves, he told himself as he approached the plinth. Don’t want to look foolish in front of everyone. Gwaine already won’t let me forget the whole football thing. God, everyone is staring. I should-

“Just do it already, Arthur!” Elyan called, making Arthur’s face turn red. Now everyone was staring. He whirled around and gestured rudely at his so-called friends, making them laugh.

“Fine!” he yelled back. “Idiots,” he grumbled, pausing at the base of the statue. Unbeknownst to him, Morgana had her phone out and was filming this whole time.

“You better be worth it,” he muttered to the statue, eyes locked on the hand that was resting on the sword’s hilt. The hand was slender, and much too bony, but it made something in Arthur stir, like a really intense feeling of déjà-vu. He swallowed hard and reached out with his right hand.

His skin had barely brushed against the statue when, suddenly, Arthur was forced onto the ground by the weight of someone falling on top of him. He landed on his back and shoulders with a grunt, pressed against the cobblestone footpath by something human-sized on his stomach. He heard the startled gasps and shouts of his friends, then the other park-goers, as realization of something swept through them. Sadly, as Arthur’s vision was obscured by a curly mop of black hair, he couldn’t see what everyone was fussing over.

He felt slim, familiar hands on his shoulders - Gwen , he thought - as he struggled to get up. “Arthur, careful!” she told him. “He looks pretty out of it.”

He? Arthur scowled in confusion, tilting his head to the side to try to catch a glimpse of his friends. “Can someone help me up, please?” he asked. He most definitely did not whine.

There was movement as Lance, Gwaine, and Percy scrambled to pull the weight off of Arthur’s body. After a few moments of careful maneuvering, Arthur was finally freed. He let out a deep breath and sat up, rubbing his shoulders with a wince. He looked around and flushed. They had gathered a bit of a crowd. The whole park, in fact. Great. I’m really never going to live this down, he thought with a groan.

He turned to look at his friends, making sure to move slowly in case he had hurt his back. “What the hell is going on?” he asked them, still utterly bewildered.

They all looked to be in various degrees of shock and disbelief. Leon was wide-eyed, Elyan was gaping, Lance looked concerned, Percy looked unsure, and Gwaine? Gwaine was doubled over, laughing his ass off. The only ones who were doing anything remotely helpful were Gwen and Morgana.

They were bent over the man who had fallen on top of Arthur, talking in hushed voices. Morgana’s phone was on the pavement beside them, the number for emergency services queued up just in case. When Arthur spoke, they exchanged nervous looks before glancing at him. “Well, um,” Gwen started, “I think you... That is to say, your touch- We believe-”

Morgana cut her off. “You freed him,” she stated simply. Arthur knew his sister well enough to realize that there was shock etched into her features. It was a feeling that he was very familiar with at the moment.

“F-freed him?” he spluttered, his voice going up an octave. “Freed who?” He whirled around to face the statue, but to his horror, he was met with an empty plinth.

“What the fu-”

❂🜲❂

The air smelled different. It was the first thing Merlin noticed as his mind and body slowly returned to consciousness. The scent of nature, earthy and robust and full of magic, had dulled almost to the point of nonexistence. It was dominated by an acrid, artificial smell that made his nose scrunch from the unpleasantness. He shifted slightly and felt smooth paved stones under his body, warmed by the sun that hung high over his head. It was a familiar feeling that caused him to relax.

There was a faint buzzing in his ears, like the babbling of water in a brook, and it forced his attention to focus. He tried to grasp the sounds, but it was like catching smoke. He felt his throat vibrate as he let out a soft groan of frustration. The buzzing close to him fell silent, although he could still hear more further away. After a moment, it began again. It was almost as though the source of it was worried, as the noise was quicker and louder than before. He wished it would go away, or make sense at the very least.

Continuing to ignore the noise, Merlin took stock of himself. Nothing felt broken, thank the goddess, and he didn’t feel concussed. So how in the world did he end up on the ground? The last thing he remembered was-

sh*t .

His eyes flew open as memories of his breakdown at the lake came back to him. The way he had lost control over his magic, how Freya held him through his grief, and how, together, they came up with a plan to end his pain. It worked, he thought, numb with shock. He was too busy processing what that meant to notice the blurry faces peering down at him at first. After a few moments, though, he was forced to blink the sunlight from his eyes, causing them to focus more and more.

The faces started to take shape. The one on his left was soft and round, with dark skin and equally-dark curls framing it. The one to his right had sharper features but was undoubtedly just as feminine as the first, with longer, less curly hair. They turned away from him at the same time, their attention drawn elsewhere for a moment. The buzzing returned as the one on his right opened her mouth to speak to whoever or whatever she was looking at. The other young woman looked back down at him and gave a start. Was she surprised to see him awake? How long had he been on the ground for?

He knew she was saying something to him, but his ears still weren’t working that well, so he had no idea what she was trying to tell him. He swallowed roughly and opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a wordless rasp. The woman grabbed an odd-looking water skin that someone handed to her from outside of Merlin’s vision, and she held the opening to his mouth with one hand as she lifted his head up with the other. He drank slowly, letting the cold trickle of water soothe his dry and aching throat.

Once his thirst had been slaked, he cleared his throat and tried to speak again. The faces had gradually been taking on a more defined shape, but he still couldn’t see them very clearly, nor could he understand what they were saying. It was frustrating. “Can’t- Can’t hear you,” he whispered. The woman set the water skin down and stopped her babbling. Her companion looked back down at him, evidently surprised that he was able to talk. “Where…?”

The paler woman took over for her friend. He tried to focus on where he thought her lips would be, and through the haze of his mind, he thought he saw her say something about a park. He blinked a few times, letting out another soft groan, and rubbed his aching temples with great effort. Clearly the spell he and Freya had used to turn him to a statue and back again had sapped him of a lot of magical energy. He could feel himself starting to slip towards sleep. There was something he was missing, though. Something important that he needed to know before he could rest.

As his eyes fluttered closed, it came to him, and it came out as little more than an exhaled breath.

“Arthur.”

❂🜲❂

Morgana and Gwen stilled when they heard the word slip between the young man’s lips as he fell back into unconsciousness. They both looked down at him, then to each other. No one else had heard what he said, since they were too busy arguing amongst themselves over what to do about the fact that Arthur unintentionally ruined one of the most iconic statues in modern Britain. The blond himself was on the phone with a family friend, his back turned on the fallen man. It seemed that only the women were aware that the unknown man had spoken at all.

“-No, Gaius it’s not some- some street performer. He was a statue, and now he isn’t, and it’s my fault! He could be hurt or something, and you’re the only one in the city we can bring him to. How would you explain it to the nurses at the hospital?” Arthur hissed into his phone, sounding as panicked and unsure as they had ever seen him. He continuously ran his fingers through his hair, messing up the long strands and tugging on the roots to try to ground himself. “It sounds mad enough trying to explain it to just you ! We’d be written up for public drunkenness at best if paramedics got involved. I- Oh, thank you, Gaius. Thank you! I’ll pay you back for this, I swear. We’ll be there as soon as possible. Yes, okay- I will. Alright. Bye, Gaius.”

Arthur stuffed his phone back into his pocket with a weary sigh, running his free hand down his face. Morgana had to fight the snicker at her brother’s expense. As much as she loved to see him exasperated, this wasn’t the time to get on his nerves. He turned back around to face them after another deep sigh. When his eyes fell on the black-haired man between Morgana and Gwen, his face took on an oddly stricken look. “Gaius said we can take the bloke to his place down the road,” he informed them without taking his eyes off him. His voice was tight and rough, and Morgana was reminded of the times when they were younger and Arthur had suffered from nightmares. When he sought his sister’s comforting hugs, he often spoke of those dreams in the same kind of voice. It was troubling to hear it now.

“We should call a cab, then,” Gwen said, biting at her lip. “See if Percy could carry him to the curb and into the car. The rest of us could meet you three there later. It’s not a far walk,” she said, thinking out loud. To Morgana, it was a sound plan. But Arthur didn’t look convinced. If anything, he seemed ready to object to the entire idea. Before he could open his mouth, though, the rest of their friends had wrapped up their rather heated discussion and made their way over to them.

After listening to Gwen explain their idea to the others, Leon volunteered to call the cab company and pay for the fare. He brushed off their objections over the latter by reminding Morgana that he still owed her a favor after she looked after him last week when he was sick with a cold. Stupid men and their honor, she thought without heat as she gave in to Leon’s reasoning.

Percy didn’t hesitate to scoop the scrawny young man into his arms and carry him to the sidewalk, Gwaine at his side just in case. Arthur trailed behind them a bit reluctantly. It was clear that something was bothering him about the whole situation, but Morgana knew better than to confront him about it in front of all their friends.

The pale stranger didn’t stir once during the cab ride to Gaius’ flat, nor did he react at all to being carried up three flights of stairs. The pouch and sword on his belt made holding him a bit awkward, but Percy had had to carry a drunken Gwaine before, so this was easy in comparison. Gwaine, seeing that his boyfriend’s hands were quite literally full, knocked on Gaius’ door, hoping that the three of them wouldn’t attract the attention of any nosy neighbors.

Thankfully Gaius must have been waiting for their arrival, as the door opened only seconds later. “Ah, good! Bring him inside. You can set him down on the table in the kitchen. I just finished moving everything onto the counters, so don’t worry about knocking anything over,” the older man said, following the trio into the room with surprising agility and speed for someone of his age.

Percy was grateful that Gaius had the foresight to prepare space for the poor lad. He set the young man down on the table as gently as he could, with Gwaine cradling the back of his head so it didn’t collide too hard against the solid oak surface. Gaius slipped a small pillow under his head before bustling about, gathering his old instruments. “If one of you could take that belt off of him, I’d appreciate it. I’d rather not bruise my hip against the hilt of that sword,” he said casually, making the pair chuckle. Gwaine, having quicker fingers, undid the buckle with ease and slid it off from the man’s waist, setting it beside him on the table.

“Why’s he got a sword anyways, Gaius?” Percy asked, taking a seat in one of the chairs that had been pushed against the wall. “Seems a bit odd for someone so young. Was he a warrior or something?”

Gaius snorted as he draped a stethoscope around his neck. “My boy, do you see the build of his body? Does he look like a warrior to you? I doubt it’s an ornamental piece either. The scabbard is much too plain for that.” Gaius began to examine the unconscious stranger as non-invasively as possible. Gwaine glanced at the belt and was surprised to see that Gaius was right. “If I had to wager, I’d say it’s more sentimental. Perhaps his father’s blade, or an older brother’s? Hard to tell without being able to ask him directly.”

Percy nodded as the physician spoke, watching him feel for broken bones, dislocated joints, or any other abnormalities. Gwaine, on the other hand, had his eyes on the pouch that also hung on the belt. “Any idea what might be in there, O Wise One?” he asked, earning himself a swat to the back of the head and a signature Eyebrow, both from Gaius.

“Don’t snoop, Gwaine. It’s one thing to speculate about the sword, but it’s another thing entirely to go through what we can assume are his only worldly possessions,” he admonished, making the man wince.

“Right. Sorry, Gaius,” he apologized, looking truly abashed. “It’s just- There’s something familiar about him, yeah? I feel like I almost know him.”

Gaius’ face softened. “As do I. And I doubt it’s because he’s a legendary figure in his own right,” he said, looking down at the young man’s face with a kindly smile. “He seems to be in good health, all things considered. I can’t do a more thorough exam without his consent, however. The only thing we can do now is wait until he wakes.”

❂🜲❂

Awakening was always a slow process for the warlock, and this time proved to be no different. His mind felt sluggish and syrupy, much like it had the one night he actually went to the tavern and got drunk. But there was no pleasant buzz of intoxication in his veins, nor the embarrassing loss of inhibition. There was only the quiet hum of a nearby voice.

Merlin’s eyelids peeled open, and he quickly wiped the grit from the corners of his eyes. He was laying in a large, soft bed, the curtains drawn over the windows so as not to wake him with the sunrise. It was a surprisingly thoughtful gesture, considering he had no idea whose home he was in. The bedclothes rustled softly as he propped himself up on his elbows and looked around.

Aside from the bed, the room barely resembled any kind of chambers he was familiar with. Sure, there was a bureau and closet, but they were of such high quality that they rivaled the furnishings found in the royal apartments of Camelot. The mattress under him was softer than anything he had felt before - even softer than Arthur’s bed had been. The blankets were much the same, as were the pillows. He ran his hands over the sheets, marveling at the luxury. Perhaps the women from before had been whatever passed for royalty these days? It would definitely explain the accommodations. He’d have to thank them for their generosity.

But that required getting out of this ridiculously-comfortable bed, which he was reluctant to do. Aside from being warm and cozy, he also still felt heavy with the remnants of sleep. He gently prodded at his magic and winced when he realized that it was still not fully replenished. That would explain the lingering weakness in his bones. His stomach suddenly growled rather loudly at him, and he wondered if eating a proper meal would aid in his recovery. If nothing else, he’d at least get to try the food of this era. He hoped his body would be able to digest the assumed richness of it all after so much time going without any sort of nourishment.

With a soft groan, Merlin tossed the blankets off his body and eased himself upright. His limbs shook slightly from the exertion, and he had to take a moment to gather his strength before attempting to stand. He used the bed-frame as leverage and found that his legs, while wobbly, could support his weight. He took a few practice laps around the room, and when he realized that he wasn’t going to fall face-first onto the floor for his efforts, his caution began to ebb. Strength quickly began to flow back into his body as he moved about for the first time in literal ages.

After pausing to roll the cricks out of his shoulders, the warlock’s eyes fell on the wooden door leading out of the bedroom. His stomach growled again, urging him to venture out into what he guessed was a connected hallway. He could feel no dark magic anywhere nearby, which eased his worries somewhat, but he still had no idea what to expect when he stepped out. More opulence, for sure, but what of the people who brought him here?

His eyes fell on his belt, which was laid out at the foot of the bed, and he hurriedly slipped it onto his waist. He could feel that the protective charms on both the sword and pouch had not been tampered with, so it was unlikely that his rescuers had taken off the belt with malicious intentions. Perhaps they had simply assumed he would be unable to sleep comfortably with it on. It would be yet another thoughtful gesture if true.

Merlin softly opened the bedroom door and poked his head outside. His assumption had been correct - there was a hallway here, made of the same high quality as the chambers. The wooden floor was a light color and had no stains, while the walls were painted a simple pale yellow, giving the place a warm and cheery feeling. A smattering of paintings hung from the halls, drawing his eyes to their vibrant colors and incredibly lifelike subjects. Merlin’s booted feet padded softly on the floor as he made his way down the hall, following the soft humming that had greeted him when he awoke.

The sight that greeted him was wholly unexpected. He suddenly found himself in a small kitchen as the wooden floorboards turned to square, grey tiles. Light streamed in from the handful of windows lining the walls, illuminating the scene in front of him. An older gentleman stood at the stove, his back turned to the doorway as he stirred something on the fire. He wore soft, loose-fitting clothes that looked every inch as comfortable as the blankets from the chambers. This must be his home, Merlin thought, watching as the man bustled about with the confidence that only came with the familiarity and comfort of having lived in a space for quite some time. It made him ache for Camelot.

As though he could hear Merlin’s thoughts, the old man suddenly perked up and turned to face him. A grin spread across his wrinkled, kindly countenance. Merlin could only stare in shock as Gaius’ face gazed back at him. “Ah, you’re awake! Excellent! We were getting worried. How are you feeling?” the older man asked, and Merlin had to fight every instinct that was screaming at him to cross the room and embrace him. It had to be a trick.

“I- ‘M fine,” he croaked, unable to look away from not-Gaius, who frowned slightly.

“Are you sure, my boy? You’ve had quite the ordeal. I examined you as best I could while you were unconscious, and I’m fairly certain you haven’t been hurt, but I couldn’t well ask you before now,” he said with a soft chuckle.

“Y-yeah, I’m sure,” Merlin rasped. He found that his fingers had somehow wound around the nearest chair, his knuckles white from the strength of his grip. “No, um, no pain or anything. Bit hungry, though,” he admitted, knowing that this illusion of Gaius would hardly be able to hurt him with that information.

The man smiled kindly. “I had a feeling you would say that. You’ve been asleep for four days now. We tried getting nutrients in you, but aside from water and broth, I’m afraid you were hardly fit to eat much. Luckily for you, I made sure to prepare for this,” he said, turning back to the stove. The break in conversation gave Merlin the opportunity to clumsily seat himself in the chair that he’d had a deathgrip on. The wooden seat clattered noisily against the tile, but not-Gaius hardly seemed to notice as he gathered the materials for… something. “I was going to bring this to you soon anyways. It’s just chicken broth with added vitamins and minerals. A bit plain, I know, but I don’t want to risk you getting sick on anything richer,” he explained, turning back to Merlin. There was nothing suspicious in his hands - only a bowl of soup, like he said it would be. He set it down in front of Merlin, along with a metal spoon, and went back to the stove to start cleaning.

While the man’s back was turned, Merlin used a tendril of magic to prod at the food before him. It wasn’t enchanted or spiked with a potion, which was a relief, and he couldn’t sense any poisons in it either. Maybe… Maybe it was just soup. He picked up the spoon and began to eat, his thoughts swirling in his head. If the man had wanted to kill him, he’d had ample opportunity to while he’d been asleep. And, if he had been feeding him like he claimed, he easily could have slipped something into his food or water before now. What would be the point in nursing him back to health, only to try to kill him once he recovered?

The tension in Merlin’s shoulders began to lessen. Whoever this man was, and why he decided to wear Merlin’s long-dead mentor’s face, it was clear that his intentions were not harmful. It helped that the soup tasted divine, although that could be because Merlin hadn’t eaten anything in who-knows-how-long.

Speaking of which…

“Excuse me?” he asked hesitantly. Not-Gaius set down the washcloth that was in his aged hands and focused on Merlin with a nod, prompting him to continue. “How- How long, exactly, was I a statue? It feels like centuries have passed, at the very least,” he babbled, his eyes flicking to the odd-looking stove and the rest of the alien furnishings in the kitchen.

The older man looked almost sad. “Nobody is completely certain, but most scholars believe that the statue - that is to say, you - had been in the park for just over a millennium,” he said solemnly. Merlin gaped at him.

“A thousand years?” he whispered, his eyes wide and shining with disbelief. The other man nodded again.

“I’m sorry, my boy. I will do my best to help you adjust to this new world, but I fear my knowledge is a bit outdated, given my years. But I know some people more your age who would gladly help you. Well, the age you look, at any rate,” he amended, and Merlin smiled softly.

“I would like that. Thank you, sir,” he said, playing with the strings of the pouch on his belt. “What should I call you?” he blurted out suddenly. “I mean, if you’re to be my teacher,” and by the Goddess, if that didn’t send another bolt of sadness through him, “I should know your name. Mine’s Merlin.”

The man smiled back at him. “A pleasure to meet you, Merlin. I’m Gaius.”

The warlock’s mouth went dry. “Likewise,” he managed to say, his face betraying nothing of the imminent emotional breakdown that was brewing within his chest. Could it- Was it possible that it really was Gaius standing in front of him? The physical similarities were unquestionable, right down to the fatherly glint in his eyes. Hell, even his word choice was the same, even if it was spoken in a different language (and quite literally thank the Goddess that Merlin could understand this odd new tongue).

The only thing that made him doubt was that this Gaius didn’t seem to have any memory of him. Merlin had been there when Gaius had passed in his sleep in Camelot, so he knew that the physician wasn’t immortal. Had he been reborn, then? If he had truly been reawoken by Arthur’s touch, it would make sense that the same higher power that allowed his king to return had also granted the souls of their friends a return as well. The thought made his stomach flip. How many others had come back?

His mind raced back to his first awakening back in the park, and his eyes widened at the memory of the people huddled over him. Had they been some of his long-dead friends, and he’d been too weak to even realize? His heart thundered in his chest as the blood drained from his face. Had he already missed his chance?

Gaius was staring at him, looking equal parts concerned and curious. “Are you alright, Merlin?” he asked, his voice tinged with genuine worry.

“I… Just a little overwhelmed, I guess,” he said. It wasn’t a complete lie, but how could he tell this maybe-not-Gaius the truth? He’d look like he was mad. “I, um, I don’t suppose you know the people who found me in the park? I’d like to- to thank them for bringing me here and getting me help,” he lied clumsily. Even this version of Gaius could see right through his fumbling, if the arched Eyebrow of Doom was anything to go by.

“I do. The young man who restored you was also the one who called me and begged to let you stay here until you woke up,” he explained, reaching across the table to clear away the now-empty bowl of soup. “His name is Arthur, and he’s like a nephew to me. I was his family’s primary doctor before I retired. Stubborn as mules, the lot of them, but I’m not surprised it was the youngest sibling who managed to do this,” he said, gesturing up and down at Merlin’s now-human form.

“The youngest?” Merlin asked, confused. Arthur had siblings in this life? If the world’s magic was as suppressed as it felt, and medicine as advanced as the cookware in this kitchen, then it would make sense that Ygraine wouldn’t have had to turn to the Old Religion and its rules of balance in order to have children. The idea made Merlin smile for a moment.

But then he remembered: Arthur had a sibling in his first life, too.

“Yes, an older sister,” Gaius continued as he loaded the bowl into some sort of large metal box installed into the counters. “Half-sister, technically, but they bicker just like any full-blooded siblings do,” he mused with a soft laugh. “I hope you get to meet them soon, my boy. They both keep pestering me about your condition. I’m surprised they haven’t come by for their daily visit yet,” he commented dryly. “I kept telling them that they shouldn’t feel guilty for what happened to you, but for some ridiculous reason, they do. Maybe once they see that you’re awake and in no ill health, they’ll finally leave me to my retirement and my plants,” he grumbled, although there was no heat in his voice.

Despite himself, Merlin laughed. “Was I really that bad of a patient?” he teased.

Gaius’ eyes twinkled with amusem*nt. “Hardly, dear boy. I only wish all of them had been as quiet and amenable to treatment as you,” he chuckled.

“Well, I’m glad I was unconscious for it. I hear healers make the worst patients,” Merlin said with a shrug, making Gaius’ eyes widen.

“You’ve studied medicine?” he asked, delightedly surprised. If the situation wasn’t so painful, Merlin would have laughed.

“I did. It was… a long time ago, though,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. But he needn’t have feared Gaius’ reaction. The older man simply smiled, understanding all that Merlin had left unsaid.

“It’s quite alright. If you’re interested, I could teach you a thing or two about what the field of medicine is like now. Much about it has changed in my lifetime, so I might understand how overwhelming this could be for you,” he explained patiently.

The idea of Gaius teaching him medicine, again , made a sob wrench forth from Merlin’s chest. It was too much. Gaius’ face morphed from warmth and humor to shock and worry as Merlin crumpled in his seat. The physician raced over to his side, and, despite Gaius not remembering a thing about him, Merlin didn’t hesitate to bury his tear-streaked face into the older man’s torso. He felt old but steady hands smooth through his hair and rub circles into his back as Gaius murmured soothing reassurances to him.

He’d mourned his mentor before his time as a statue, but seeing him here, alive and well and unburdened by the weight of his sins during the Purge, made the grief come back in full. Between sobs, Merlin gasped continuous strings of apologies, confessing his own sins and mistakes and regrets to Gaius’ abdomen, uncaring that most of it would likely sound nonsensical to this version of the man. It didn’t seem to matter, though, as he continued to hold Merlin until his sobs tapered off to small, shuddering breaths punctuated by wet sniffles.

Some unknown amount of time later, Merlin peeled himself away from Gaius, using the ends of his tunic’s sleeves to wipe at his puffy, bloodshot eyes. Stifling another wave of tears, he ducked his head, suddenly too embarrassed to look Gaius in the eye. “Sorry,” he whispered, his voice rough from the force of his sobs. “I guess I needed to get that off my chest.”

“Oh, my boy, don’t you ever apologize for feeling,” Gaius gently chastised, taking a small square of cloth from its container on the table and using it to dry Merlin’s face. “I don’t know what life was like for you before, but I promise you, no one here will make fun of you for your emotions. Not under my roof,” the man said firmly, like a promise. Merlin could only nod, feeling a piece of himself settle at the reassurance.

Gaius settled himself in the chair beside Merlin, looking at the younger man apologetically. “I didn’t mean to upset you when I offered to teach you. I’m sorry to have caused you such distress,” he began, only to stop when he saw Merlin shaking his head.

“No, Gaius, you didn’t do anything wrong. I-” Merlin sighed. “I could try to explain, but I’m not sure it would make any sense. This whole situation barely even makes sense to me,” he said, gesturing to the flat, as if to refer to the whole world. Gaius nodded, understanding. “All I’ve ever known is over a millennium dead and gone. My mother, my friends, my- my family,” he explained, unsure how else to describe Aithusa and Kilgharrah. They’d been alive when he and Freya put the spell on him on the shore of the Lake of Avalon, but there was no telling if that was still true. His hands fell to the pouch on his belt, and Gaius’ eyes tracked the movement with no small degree of curiosity. “All I have left is what’s in here,” he murmured.

“Not much at all,” Gaius said with compassion, seeing the size of the pouch and concluding that it held only a few small trinkets. It was a reasonable assumption, had the bag not been enchanted.

The sorcerer smiled and shook his head again. “Actually, you’d be surprised,” he said, making Gaius give him the Eyebrow again. Merlin took a deep breath and a leap of faith. “What do you know of magic?” he asked, meeting Gaius’ gaze.

The old man paused, seeing the seriousness in the younger man’s eyes. He spoke carefully, wondering just where this conversation was heading. “I know the legends from ancient times speak of magic as though it is just another part of the natural world, and that people were once able to harness magical energies and use it for their own purposes. Whether that’s true or not has been debated for centuries. If it was ever true, we humans have lacked that ability for generations. A growing percent of the population believes magic to be nothing more than superstition and make-believe, fit only for children’s tales and charlatans.”

Merlin’s expression fell slightly. “And you, Gaius? What do you believe?”

“I believe that humans will never know everything about science and nature. The universe is an infinitely large space with so much left to discover. Who’s to say science isn’t just another way to explain what our ancestors called magic?” he posed with a shrug. “Take the third law of motion, for example. It says every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Another says that matter - the stuff that makes up our world - cannot be created or destroyed, only turned into different forms. Many scholars say that stories of magic contain similar rules.”

Merlin was all too familiar with those laws of magic. He nodded, grim. “It’s true. For a life to be saved or created, another life must be given,” he said. Gaius leaned forwards, enraptured.

“And how do you know what the laws of magic are, Merlin?” he asked. There was no accusation or disbelief in his voice; just pure scientific fascination. It had Merlin smiling.

An idea came to the forefront of his mind then. He swallowed thickly as the idea took root. It was possible, of course, but that didn’t mean Merlin had any confidence that it would actually work . He’d done the opposite all those years ago by putting copies of his memories into the objects, so it was fair to assume that taking the memories out of them and placing them in someone else’s mind would be simple enough. But what would that even accomplish, aside from giving new-Gaius context about who Merlin was? He’d had a lifetime before the warlock ever stumbled into his life. Would it be fair to give him such a narrow glimpse of that life without being able to give the rest?

More importantly, however, was the question of Merlin ever forgiving himself if he didn’t at least try.

“I… I can show you,” he said hoarsely, his eyes flicking down to the table and back up again. He set the pouch down between them but kept his hand on it, as though to protect it from whatever foolishness he’d come up with. “And- And I know it’s not fair of me to ask this of you, but- I need you to trust me. Just this once. If this doesn’t work, or if you don’t want to trust me, I’ll leave. You won’t have to see me ever again.” His voice had turned choked at just the thought of leaving this Gaius behind. He opened his mouth to say more, but was silenced when Gaius gently placed his hand over Merlin’s.

“Merlin. I do trust you,” he quietly admitted. “Ever since you were carried over my threshold and I got a look at you, I’ve never once feared having you in my home. The ones who brought you here, they said it felt like they already know you. I feel the same. Whatever idea you have, whatever you require of me, you have my blessing to do it.”

“Thank you, Gaius,” Merlin whispered, no longer fighting the stinging heat gathering in his eyes, touched by the man’s words. The fact that Gaius and his rescuers had some sort of innate emotional connection to him gave him one final push. He swallowed hard and gently shook Gaius’ hand off of his own. “I really hope it works. There’s so much I want to tell you, and I can do it only if I’m right about this.” He reached with shaking hands for the ties of the bag, ignoring the tears spilling down his cheeks.

The pouch’s enchantment shimmered slightly under Merlin’s touch, and he saw how it made Gaius’ eyes widen in his periphery. He snorted despite his tears. “If you think that’s impressive, then prepare yourself,” he warned the older man as he untied the knots holding the bag closed.

The small leather bag sagged open as it was freed. Gaius peered at it as unobtrusively as possible, not wanting to get in Merlin’s way but also wanting to know what was in store for him. Merlin flashed him another smile, steadier now that his tears had stopped flowing, before he reached inside.

Gaius watched in disbelief as his fingers, then hand, then entire forearm disappeared into the confines of the pouch that, for all intents and purposes, should have been no bigger than a man’s fist. His eyes were as wide as saucers by the time Merlin’s aimless groping managed to find what he was looking for. As Merlin drew the medicine bag out of the much-smaller pouch, Gaius sat back in the chair in amazement, letting out a brief laugh at what he had just seen. “My boy, I doubt I could have ever prepared myself for that!” he said, highly amused.

Merlin just shrugged, looking unashamed, then held out the satchel to Gaius. “Can you take this, please?” he asked. Gaius knew it wasn’t exactly a request, but he nodded anyways and grabbed hold of the item.

Merlin let out a deep breath. “Okay. Good. Now, no matter what you see, keep holding it. I have a feeling that if you drop it, the spell won’t work.”

“Spell?” Gaius asked, his voice pitching higher with incredulity.

“You’ll understand when- if- it works,” Merlin sort-of-explained, adjusting his seat on the chair as he took hold of the other side of the medicine bag. The two men were now both holding it, the bag held between them by firm grips. “All you have to do is sit there and let it do its thing,” he said, aiming for reassurance. Judging by Gaius’ expression, he hadn’t been very successful.

“Right. Here goes everything,” the warlock muttered, then shifted his focus onto the satchel. He could feel his magic simmering just beneath the surface of his skin, eager to be used after being dormant for so long. “ Tæcan duguð ingemynd binnan ,” he whispered. His eyes flared gold as his magic leapt at his command.

Gaius gasped (but did not let go of the medicine bag) as memories flooded his mind. He saw flashes of red-and-gold banners flying high above battlements, a jeweled crown sitting upon the heads of two different kings, a newborn babe being held in his dying mother’s arms, dragons flying over forests and mountains, pyres sending up thick black smoke as people burned in the square for daring to just be accused of sorcery-

And then the memories settled, easing their ways into his mind as though they had always been there. Gaius returned to the present to see that he was clutching the medicine bag with trembling hands, and that Merlin - Merlin! - was crouching in front of him, his face lined with deep concern. “Gaius, are you alright? I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it would happen all at once! Do you want me to undo it? Or-” Gaius cut off Merlin’s nervous rambling with a raised hand.

A hand which settled onto Merlin’s cheek almost reverently. It took him by surprise, and he looked at Gaius with a furrowed brow.

“ My boy ,” Gaius whispered, his own eyes now shining with unshed tears. Merlin desperately grabbed Gaius’ hand, his eyes now wide, tentative wonder lighting his pale face.

“Gaius?” he whispered back, as if speaking any louder would break the fragile thread of hope connecting them.

“Oh, my dear boy. Thank you. Thank you ,” Gaius gasped, and Merlin fell forwards to embrace him, the two men holding tight to each other as fresh tears rolled down their faces.

Some time passed before either of them had the strength to break away from the other, and they were both grinning madly despite their stained cheeks and red eyes. “It worked,” Merlin choked, his face aching from the stretch of his smile. His mind was going wild with the implications of it all, and his eyes fell back to the pouch that still sat between them on the table. “Gaius, if Arthur and Morgana are here, I can give them their memories too!” he cried, suddenly shooting to his feet and pacing with a wild sort of energy. “I- I can have them back! Is this why the Goddess made me immortal? Is this why I’ve had to suffer so long? So I can remind Arthur of who he’s meant to be?”

Gaius watched his ward’s manic movements with more than a little concern. “Merlin, the prophecies have always said that you and he will unite Albion and bring magic back to the land. I hardly think it means your part will be restricted to just giving him his memories back,” he said, reaching out to stop Merlin’s frantic pacing with a gentle but firm hold on his arm. “Whatever happens, you still have a vital part to play at his side. Of that I have no doubt.”

Merlin stood still, the sudden mania draining from his bones. “But I’ve already done so much for him, Gaius,” he whispered, looking at his mentor with pain and resignation in his eyes. “And he never knew until he was dying. I’m not sure he even forgave me for everything before he slipped through my fingers,” Merlin confessed, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. “Do you- Do you think he’ll want anything to do with me after I give him his memories back?” he asked in a small voice.

“Oh, Merlin. If I know anything about Arthur, it’s that you’ve always been one of his few weak spots. He may need time to process everything, but I promise, he will never abandon you. You mean too much to him for that to happen.” Gaius drew Merlin in for another hug, and the warlock buried his face in his father-figure’s shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

“I hope you’re right, Gaius. He means a lot to me, too.”

Gaius could only hug him tighter.

❂🜲❂

A few hours passed in a much more peaceful manner than the morning had. As Gaius’ memories continued to settle, and as Merlin explained to him how he had come to be a statue in the middle of what was now known as Avalon Park, the two men quickly lost track of time. The mementos from the pouch were now spread across the table, as Merlin had used them to explain the spell that kept the memories inside of them. Merlin felt himself falling into familiar teasing and banter with his mentor, especially when Gaius told him how Merlin wound up in his home.

“I fainted ? In front of Arthur ?!” he squeaked, his face bright red. Gaius laughed while Merlin hid his face in his hands.

“Morgana has proof, I’m afraid. She was filming the whole thing with her phone,” he informed the mortified young man, patting him not-so-apologetically on the arm. Despite not knowing what “film” or a “phone” was, Merlin knew he had no hope of denying his fainting episode. Wonderful.

As Merlin groaned into the palms of his hands, there was a rap of knuckles on Gaius’ door. “Gaius, mate, you in there? Perce and I were in the area-”

“No we weren’t!”

“-And we wanted to check in on your adorable guest!”

Merlin sat rooted to the spot, pale and shaking, and Gaius sent him a pitying look as he shuffled over to let the duo in. “You two are the worst of the lot, I swear,” the physician grumbled as he wrenched the door open. Merlin’s eyes fell on the men in the doorway and he stared, unblinking, at the sight of two of his long-dead friends.

Gwaine and Percival stood side-by-side in the hallway, wearing matching innocent smiles. Gwaine’s arm was wrapped around Percy’s side possessively, although the taller man didn’t seem to mind. The two of them were too busy peering into the flat to notice.

“Well? Are you going to come in, or are you going to make an old man stand here and hold the door open for you all day?” Gaius teased, and the two men laughed as they stepped inside. Once they crossed the threshold, their eyes quickly found Merlin, and they both gave similar starts. Gwaine’s hand fell away from Percy’s waist as they stared at the somehow-familiar stranger. “Oh, I meant to call - he woke up just after breakfast this morning,” Gaius mentioned casually as he squeezed past the younger men, taking his seat at Merlin’s side again. “Gwaine, Percy, this is Merlin,” he said, giving his nephew’s wrist a grounding squeeze.

“Merlin, eh?” Gwaine asked as he took one of the other seats at the table. “Nice to meet you, mate,” he said, flashing the dark-haired man a cheeky grin. Merlin’s returned smile was nowhere near as bright or steady as Gwaine’s.

“You too,” he said, doing his damndest to keep his voice even. Gaius saw the anguish in his eyes and knew Merlin was reliving the encounter he’d had with Leon after Camlann, wherein the knight had regretfully informed him of Gwaine’s fate at Morgana’s hands.

Percy could see the pain as well and nudged his boyfriend to get his attention. Gwaine looked over, confused, then followed Percy’s line of sight to the array of items on the table. “What’s all this, Gaius?” the taller man asked as he took the seat beside Gwaine.

“These are Merlin’s possessions. He informed me that they’re belongings from his old friends,” Gaius explained, trying to keep his answer vague in case Merlin changed his mind about giving them their memories back.

Gwaine’s expression sombered. “I’m sorry. Losing them must have been hard,” he said with sincerity. For some odd reason, he was having a difficult time pulling his eyes away from one of the items - a silver pendant on a thin metal chain. Percy was having the same problem with the well-worn book that sat beside the necklace.

Merlin nodded as he followed their lines of sight. His stomach lurched, wondering if the memories within the items were calling to their owners. “Here, you can hold them, if you like,” he said quietly, handing the objects over to the respective men. “My friends, they- they died a long time ago. I put my memories of them into their favorite belongings so they could live on in their own way.” As he passed the pendant to Gwaine and the book of poems to Percy, he whispered the spell that he had used on Gaius’ medicine bag hours earlier.

He saw the spell hit each man by the way their spines straightened and their eyes went distant. Merlin shot a warning glance to Gaius, just in case either one collapsed. But he need not have worried, as, after a few moments, the couple sagged back into their chairs and blinked the fog from their eyes.

“Oh, Gods,” Percy whispered, his expression one of horror. The book lay temporarily forgotten on the table. He had gone pale rather rapidly, then turned slightly green around the edges. He met Merlin’s eyes and shuddered, his hand curled around his stomach.

“First door on the left,” Gaius said, clearly anticipating this reaction, and Percy leapt to his feet and barreled down the hall just in time to sick up everything that had been in his stomach into the toilet.

Gaius stood and ambled after the poor man, but not before patting Merlin on the shoulder. “It’s going to be alright,” he murmured just loud enough for his ward to hear. Merlin nodded, although he didn’t really believe it.

Gwaine, meanwhile, had silently slipped the pendant over his neck and was now holding it tightly in his fist, staring, unblinking, at the young man across from him. His face was expressionless, covered by a mask of stoicism that was entirely out of place on the man. Merlin scooted closer but dared not reach out to touch.

“Gwaine? Say something, please,” Merlin begged, itching to embrace him. His voice broke on the “please”, and it made Gwaine’s face flicker with shame.

The former knight tried to speak, but it took a few attempts for words to actually come forth. “Merls,” he began, his voice a broken whisper, “I- Gods, Merlin , how could I have forgotten you?” he asked as he reached across the chasm between them and took Merlin’s hand between his own shaking ones. “I always knew something was missing, but I never thought it was a whole person , especially a person as special as you,” he admitted, his gaze dropping as shame bubbled in his gut.

“Gwaine, no,” Merlin said gently, shaking his head. “No one remembered me - not even Gaius. I had to give him his memories back, just like I did with you and Percy. You aren’t alone in needing a little extra reminder of your first life,” he promised as he leaned forwards and grabbed Gwaine’s upper arm with his free hand, giving it a quick but kind squeeze. “You aren’t to blame for anything. I swear.”

Gwaine exhaled shakily and pulled Merlin close. Expecting his affection, Merlin went easily, slipping his arms around the other man as Gwaine clung to him, his whole body shaking as silent tears dripped down his cheeks. It was Merlin’s turn to comfort, and he did so gladly, rubbing his back and murmuring words of assurance into his hair. Never once did Merlin make him feel embarrassed for this, which only made him cry harder in appreciation for this man.

Gwaine was drying his eyes with a handful of tissues when Gaius reappeared with Percy in tow. The taller man looked tired but much more settled now that he’d had time to process the memories (Merlin assumed he’d talked with Gaius about everything as well). He collapsed into the seat beside Gwaine and held him tight. Gwaine didn’t protest the sudden shift into Percy’s lap, and he buried his nose into his boyfriend’s neck with a shuddering breath.

Merlin looked away, remembering how Percy had been with Gwaine when he died, and how distant and lost he had been in the aftermath of the battle. The two men were still clearly at ease in each other’s arms, and they clung to each other with all the care and fear that Merlin expected of them.

He let them have a few minutes to assure themselves that the other was alive and well before he gently cleared his throat. The duo jumped and turned to face him, and Percy blushed slightly, as if he had forgotten that they had an audience. Merlin gave them both a tender smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you before I gave you the memories back. Gaius told me that most people don’t believe magic is real anymore, so I didn’t think that trying to explain would make you any more prepared. But I do want to apologize for not telling you both about my magic before,” he said as he bowed his head of dark curls. “I was scared, back in Camelot. My first experience in the city was the execution of another sorcerer. It made me realize that no one could ever know what I really am, not even Arthur. He was only told during his final days, and I don’t think he forgave me for all the lies I told him over the years before he died,” he told them, repeating what he had informed Gaius of earlier. His ears burned with the shame that he knew was obvious on his face, and he couldn’t stomach the thought of looking his friends in the eyes.

“Merlin,” Percy croaked, and the sorcerer’s head whipped up in shock to see the normally-stoic man’s face streaked with tears. In his lap, Gwaine was stroking Percy’s arm, trying to soothe him. “You never should have had to live like that. I’m so, so sorry I didn’t make it clear that you could come to me about this. I grew up outside Camelot, as did Gwaine,” he reminded Merlin, and Gwaine nodded. “We didn’t fear magic like most other knights did. I didn’t become a knight because I wanted to continue Uther’s purge; I did it because I knew Arthur would be a great king one day, and because I knew he was far kinder and more sympathetic to magic users than his father ever was, despite what Morgana did to them.”

“And I joined the knights because of you , mate,” Gwaine added as he looked directly at Merlin. “You made me realize that I was wrong about nobles. Your faith in Arthur changed everything I believed in. And I saw the way you rubbed off on him and made him treat commoners just as well as he treated other nobles. Hell, sometimes the commoners were treated better!” he said with a short laugh, and the four of them smiled as they remembered the times Arthur lost his patience with the members of the council, especially the ones left over from Uther’s reign, and their underhanded, agenda-driven ways. “Point is, Merls, you’ve got nothing to be apologizing for. Not to me, not to Percy, not to Gaius, and certainly not to Princess.”

“Thank you. Both of you,” Merlin grinned, taking their hands in his. “You… You have no idea how much I’ve needed to hear that.” He shook his head ruefully. “I was worried that you all would resent me for keeping such a big secret for so long, or that you’d abandon me or break off from our friendship. Before I turned myself into a statue, I had centuries to tell myself all these horrid things,” he sighed with a resigned shrug. “I never even considered that you might ever react this well. It would have felt like indulging in a mad fantasy to think things could turn out so well.”

Gwaine gave Merlin’s hand a squeeze. “And now? Does it still feel as mad?”

Merlin chuckled as he shook his head. “A bit, but I think I’m starting to realize that this is actually real and not some sort of hallucination.”

“Need me to pinch you so you can be sure?” Gwaine offered with a cheeky grin. Merlin couldn’t help but free his hands from their grasps and swat playfully at him.

“Have you no shame? Percy’s right here!” he teased. The taller knight chuckled.

“Don’t worry, Merlin. If you ever start to become a real threat, I can just toss you over my shoulders and haul you off to one of Gwen’s makeovers for a few hours while I remind Gwaine why he chose me in the first place,” he boldly claimed, laying a wide palm on the small of Gwaine’s back in such a way that it made him sputter.

“Duly noted,” Merlin said, equal parts amused and concerned. He had no doubt that Percy would make good on his claim, but… “Don’t worry, though. As irresistible as Gwaine likes to think he is-” (an affronted “hey!” interrupted from Gwaine’s position in Percy’s lap) “-I’ve got something a bit more important to focus on than his awful attempts at flirting.”

“Oh? Something, or someone?” Gwaine asked teasingly, then squawked when Percy shoved him. “What? He can know about our love life, but we can’t know about his? How is that fair, Perce?”

“If he wants to talk about it, he will. Otherwise let him have his privacy. Gods, Gwaine, you’re a worse gossip than the servants in Camelot were,” Percival said with a roll of his eyes.

“Aww, but babe, how else would you have known that we’d get a discount at the greengrocer’s stall at the market just by smiling for him once in a while?” Gwaine argued with a laugh, seeing Percy deflate in defeat.

“Yeah, alright, fine. Maybe gossip was helpful sometimes ,” he grumbled. Merlin and Gaius laughed at Percy’s theatrics as Gwaine raised his arms, victorious.

There was a knock at the door as the laughter tapered off, and Gaius stood to answer it, waving off the other mens’ offers of help. He was old, not an invalid, and he figured that Merlin might appreciate a few moments with his old friends, sans mentor hovering over his shoulder like a mother hen.

Another knock sounded, and Gaius rolled his eyes. There was only one person in their rag-tag group who was that impatient. “Yes, Morgana, I know you’re there,” he said, raising his voice to be sure the eldest Pendragon would hear him. A tinkle of laughter came from the other side of the door.

“I saw Percy’s car out front, Gaius,” she told him as he opened the door for her and invited her inside. “Are you having a party here without me?” she teased, embracing him warmly.

“Nonsense, my dear. Everyone knows a gathering isn’t a proper party until you arrive,” he teased in return, making her grin.

“At least one of you knows that!” she griped, shooting a look at the figure behind her. Gaius hadn’t noticed Leon at first, as the once-sorceress had quickly commanded his attention, so he sent a nod at the ginger-haired man once Morgana released him from the hug.

Leon, for his part, simply looked exasperated and long-suffering, as usual. “‘Gana, love, you know it’s not right for any woman, especially one in the bridal party, to sneak into a stag-do. Lance had every right to be mad at you,” he explained, trying his best to motion for Gaius to back him up. The physician, who had witnessed this argument many times already, held up his hands in surrender. He knew better than to side against Morgana.

“I’m going to go check on my guests, see if they’ve turned my home into a madhouse yet,” he said hastily, excusing himself while Leon and Morgana continued to casually bicker.

Gaius managed to escape into the kitchen without being drawn into anymore arguments. He let out a sigh of relief as he sat down beside Merlin, who was looking at him with great amusem*nt. “You alright, Gaius?” he asked, fighting laughter at the man’s shudder.

“Morgana is just as stubborn in this life as she was in her last one. Do not ask her anything about Lance’s party two weeks ago,” Gaius warned him, much to Merlin’s confusion.

“Er, alright,” he said, although he could hardly see how Morgana would be connected to such a thing. But apparently she was, going by Gwaine’s laughter.

“Gods, they’re still fighting about that? It was brilliant! Leon’s just upset because he was so shocked that he wound up falling into the fountain,” Gwaine explained with a conspiratorial wink to Merlin, who quickly covered his mouth to stifle the burst of laughter that leapt from his chest.

“He did not!” Merlin denied, unable to picture the usually-serious knight in such a ridiculous situation.

“Oh, he did,” a new voice purred from the archway connecting the kitchen to the sitting room, and all four heads whipped around to face a smug Morgana and a betrayed-looking Leon.

“Gwaine, stop telling strangers my embarrassing secrets!” he snapped at the brunet, who cackled. Merlin, meanwhile, couldn’t take his eyes off the young woman in the threshold.

There was no trace of madness in her eyes, no bitterness in her voice. When she joined in Gwaine’s glee, there was no malintent there - just friendly, playful teasing at Leon’s expense. Her clothing was simple but elegant, holding much of the same rich taste that she had loved back before everything had gone to sh*t. Merlin’s heart lurched. He wondered if, perhaps, it would be kinder to not give her her memories back. Would it set her back on the path to madness? Would she fear the potential for evil in her soul and end her own life? Merlin might not have completely forgiven her, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to suffer.

Gaius must have seen the conflict in his eyes, as he motioned for Merlin to join him in the sitting room. They settled near each other on the sofa, Merlin’s hands clasped tightly in his lap.

“Merlin, you cannot blame yourself for what happened to her,” Gaius began softly.

“But it is my fault!” he hissed, feeling shame and anger bubble up in his gut. “When Morgause cast the sleeping spell on everyone, she made Morgana the focus. The only way to break the spell was to- to kill her. And I was the only one who could. Everyone else was already under the curse’s effects. I forced her to drink poison, Gaius! Morgause had the antidote and managed to save her, but I think that was the final push Morgana needed to turn against Camelot, turn against us ,” Merlin confessed, his voice turning rougher and thicker until, finally, he broke. “It’s all my fault. If I had just told her what had happened… If I had trusted her with the truth, maybe… Maybe things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did.”

“Merlin, a man can drive himself mad thinking about what might have come to pass had things gone differently. There’s no use in losing yourself to these thoughts. You have a chance, here and now, to be honest with her. I know you, my boy, and I know you’re thinking about hiding her from her memories. It is kind of you to want to spare her that pain, but you cannot think it kind to make that decision for her. There is no kindness in forcing another’s fate,” Gaius murmured, rubbing Merlin’s back as the warlock processed it all.

Gaiu was right, he realized. He couldn’t decide Morgana’s fate for her. It would make him no better than Kilgharrah, who guided Merlin along only so he could have his revenge on the king who had imprisoned him.

Merlin let out a heavy sigh as he dropped his head into his hands, suddenly feeling the weight of his destiny on his shoulders. “But… But what if returning her memories does change her? What if it makes her the ultimate reason for Arthur’s return? I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if I was the one behind who put Albion at its greatest risk,” Merlin whimpered, leaning against Gaius with a weary look. The older man stayed quiet, knowing his protégé needed someone to listen. “Would Arthur ever be able to forgive me if I turned her against him again?”

“He would, if he knows what’s good for him,” came a voice that was neither Merlin’s nor Gaius’, and the two men startled violently as they whirled around to face Morgana, who was lingering in the doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. Despite the carefree tone of her voice, there was undeniable pain and grief on her youthful face, so unlike the one she wore in her final moments.

“Morgana-” Merlin began shakily, but she raised a hand to cut him off.

“It’s alright,” she said with a soft but sad smile. “I shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but you two practically ran off as soon as I got here. I was worried Merlin still wasn’t fully recovered, so I came over to check, but when I heard what you were talking about…” She trailed off, unable to hide a grimace. “I’m sorry, Gaius. You know how my curiosity always gets the better of me. I guess I know why you looked so shocked to see me, though,” she told Merlin with another small smile.

Merlin looked between her and Gaius, blinking in confusion. “But… I mean, you don’t seem that surprised to hear about what happened before,” he fumbled, his brow furrowed and wrinkled as he frowned. Merlin watched as Gaius’ eyes widened, suddenly realizing something.

“Morgana, your nightmares-”

“You still have them?!” Merlin yelped as Morgana nodded, both to Gaius and his apprentice.

“I do. Not as often as before, but still. And most of the time they’re flashes of the past instead of the future. I just never realized what I was seeing until now,” she admitted, looking sheepish. “It didn’t help that they weren’t in any sort of order. I admit, I started having suspicions when I first found out about your statue, Merlin. I’d seen you in my dreams by that point, so I knew you were connected to them somehow.”

Realization dawned on Gaius’ features. “That’s why you were so insistent on going to the park,” he murmured, and Morgana nodded again.

“And why I made sure Arthur came with us. I was the one to dare him to touch the statue- er, you,” she told Merlin, to his surprise.

“What? Why?” he asked, more lost than ever.

“It was selfish,” she sighed. “I thought that if you were returned to your human self, you’d be able to answer my questions about my dreams. But then I saw how much the spell had affected you, how one of the first things you said was Arthur’s name, and I realized that my questions could wait until the bigger issues were solved.”

“You were the one standing above me when I first came to!” he realized with a start.

“Gwen was there too, but yes. You fell on Arthur and immediately lost consciousness. We were worried you’d hit your head, but since you obviously wouldn’t be in any government records as a real person, we couldn’t well bring you to a proper healthcare centre,” she explained. “It was Arthur’s idea to bring you here. Gaius may have retired, but he’s still sharp as anything,” she said, her eyes twinkling as she looked at the older man.

“Don’t forget it,” he teased. “I’m convinced you and Gwaine have another prank up your sleeves, and I won’t let my guard down while you both are under my roof at the same time.”

“Why, Gaius! If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were accusing me of- of mischief !” she said, dramatically placing her palm over her chest and mock-swooning into the doorframe. Merlin couldn’t help but snicker at her antics.

“What else would you call ditching Gwen and crashing Lance’s stag night?” the physician asked with a raised eyebrow. Morgana cackled.

“I’m fairly sure Gwaine called it brilliant,” Merlin offered, shooting Morgana a smile of his own. She returned it gleefully.

“Oh, I have a feeling Gwaine and I have another prankster in our midst now,” she said with a smirk, and Gaius groaned into his hands.

“You three will drive us all mad,” he bemoaned, ignoring Morgana and Merlin high-fiving above him.

Percy poked his head into the sitting room and blinked at the scene in front of him, forgetting for a minute why he had sought out the trio. Merlin was the first to notice him, and he shot the muscular man a grin. “Percy! You didn’t tell me Gwaine still loved pranking people!” he said, and Percy took a moment to quell the urge to bash his head against the wall.

“I had hoped you would be able to talk him out of it,” he said weakly, shooting Merlin and Morgana a pleading look.

“Not likely,” the latter teased, and this time, Percy didn’t stop himself from dropping his head into the doorframe.

“Bollocks,” he muttered, and the dark-haired duo broke out in laughter over the (not-actual) suffering of their friend.

Merlin and Morgana, once they had stopped laughing, leaned their heads together and began to whisper to one another, no doubt planning their first prank against their poor friends. It suddenly reminded Percy of why he was there in the first place. “Oh! Gaius, Merlin. Er, and Morgana too, I guess. Everyone else just arrived. Apparently Leon texted Arthur that Merlin was awake, and Arthur picked up Lance, Gwen, and Elyan on the way. Merlin, you might want to go get their belongings sorted before something gets nicked,” he warned. Merlin swore and scrambled towards the kitchen, Morgana’s laughter trailing behind him.

The sorcerer skidded to a stop as the kitchen came into sight. Percy wasn’t lying - everyone was there. His heart thundered in his chest as he took in the faces of all his old friends, once thought forever lost. Gwaine waved to him from where he was standing by the counter and was flanked by Lance, who had his fingers intertwined with Gwen’s. Elyan was handing a drink to Leon as they discussed something passionately. Merlin caught snippets of their conversation and gathered that it had to do with some kind of sporting event. Nothing quite like a jousting tournament, surely, but it figured that the knights still had that competitive nature. Merlin rolled his eyes fondly at how Elyan nearly spilled his drink all over the table as he mimed someone’s victory pose.

He turned away from the small crowd and towards the table, intent on gathering the possessions and putting them back into his pouch until he could get some privacy with their respective owners. He froze, though, when his eyes fell on a familiar crown of golden hair standing by the window.

All sounds faded away, and the rest of the world went dim, as if bowing before the light radiating from Arthur’s soul. Merlin’s heart stuttered and leapt, and he staggered to the nearest chair, feeling his knees buckling from shock. He was reminded of earlier that morning - gods, had it only been a few hours ago? - when he first saw Gaius in this very kitchen. His reaction then had been nowhere near as paralyzing as it was now, and he had no idea how he managed to keep himself upright in those first few moments as his brain struggled to get over its shock.

He had known, logically, that Arthur must have returned. Gaius and their friends had told him as much. Hell, he’d still be stone if anyone but Arthur had touched him! But it hadn’t truly processed, hadn’t truly sunk in, until he was standing before his golden king, seeing him in the flesh for the first time in over a millennium, as strong and beautiful and alive as he’d always prayed he one day would be again.

“Arthur,” he whispered, shaking, and the blond turned to face him.

A whimper fell from his lips as blue eyes met blue eyes. There could be no denying the truth of reality now, and it shook Merlin to his core. He hadn’t even realized that his legs had collapsed until he felt warm, strong hands catch him under his arms and quickly haul him into the closest chair.

“-lin, you alright?” someone asked, and through his haze of shock, Merlin slowly realized that it was Arthur who had spoken.

“Give him some room, princess. I think he might be a touch overwhelmed. He hasn’t even been awake for a whole day yet,” said Gwaine’s voice, soft and calm from where he sat beside Merlin, soothingly running his thumb over the sorcerer's wrist to try to draw him out of his own head. “Earth to Merlin. Come in, Merls. Can you come back to us? I think you and blondie here have a lot to talk about, and you can’t do that if your head is all the way up in the clouds.”

Sluggishly, as if wading through tar, Merlin found himself returning to his body. By the time everything felt real again, he was exhausted, and from the looks he was getting from everyone, they could see it too. He had the urge to climb back into the ridiculously-soft bed that he’d woken up in and sleep the rest of the day away. The concerned faces of his friends made him realize that it would likely be some time before he could do that, though, and he let out a deep, unsteady breath.

“Y-yeah, Gwaine, I’m- I’m alright. Bit overwhelmed, like you said,” he confirmed, his voice sounding just as tired as he felt. He leaned to the side, resting against Gwaine for a moment.

Arthur was kneeling in front of him. He was looking lost and unsure, and his hand hovered a few centimetres above Merlin’s knee, as if he was unsure if his touch would be welcome. Merlin gave him a faint nod, and the hand dropped, gripping his kneecap in a fierce but gentle hold. Now that he could get a closer look, Merlin realized just how shaken Arthur was. He couldn’t help the small smile that came to his face, nor the teasing lilt to his voice as he spoke to his king.

“I’m fine, clotpole. Been one hell of a day, is all. I’ve got something that I think might help explain everything, though,” he said, nodding to the belongings still spread out on the table. Arthur’s eyes flicked over to the collection of seemingly-random objects, then quickly returned to Merlin.

“Gwaine told me how you… helped him, Percy, and Gaius,” Arthur informed him, keeping his voice low, aware that their friends were still in the kitchen. They were no longer hovering over Merlin, but they were still nearby. “I admit, I didn’t believe him at first, but when I thought back to the dreams Morgana’s had, plus my own nightmares-”

“You’ve got Sight too?” Merlin asked, eyes wide. Arthur shook his head, though, making Merlin even more confused.

“No. I think it has to do with me being so close to ‘Gana, plus my time spent between lives in Avalon. Sometimes bits and pieces leak through. I think your girlfriend was hoping I’d remember things on my own,” he teased.

“Freya’s not my girlfriend,” Merlin said, rolling his eyes. “There was- something between us, long ago, but I think we both realized we worked better as friends.”

Something sparkled in Arthur’s eyes, and if Merlin didn’t know any better, he would have called it hope. “That would explain why she was so pushy about-” But then Arthur cut himself off and turned as pink as a peony. “Never mind,” he mumbled, blushing from his ears to his chest.

It was odd, but it also wasn’t something Merlin could afford to focus on right now. “So, you have some memories, but not all of them?” he asked, trying to give Arthur a way out of the awkward conversation. Luckily the other man jumped at the chance.

“Exactly. Same with ‘Gana, too. I have a feeling you might be able to help with that,” Arthur said with an easy smile that made Merlin’s stomach flip in his gut. Damn him , Merlin though, cursing the blond’s intact ability to reduce Merlin to mush.

“Yeah. You and Morgana will probably react better to it than the others have, though. Percy actually got sick, but I think that was more because he remembered what happened to Gwaine than the fact that he had his memories back,” Merlin mused.

Arthur chuckled. “Or maybe he just remembered how much of an idiot you are and regretted carrying you like a swooning maiden,” he teased gently, earning himself a smack on the arm from an overdramatically affronted Merlin.

“Prat,” Merlin grumbled affectionately. Arthur snorted as he stood up, then offered his hand to Merlin to help him up too, unsurprised when the sorcerer batted said hand away with an indignant noise. “Think you can herd everyone back in here so I can give them their stuff back?” he asked, eying the trinkets apprehensively.

“So long as I get mine back too. Can’t have you hoarding my things like an adorable, scruffy dragon,” Arthur said with a smirk, ruffling Merlin’s hair before wandering off further into the flat to gather the others.

Merlin watched him go with a warmth in his chest and a dopey grin on his face. Gwaine saw his expression and winked at him, causing Merlin to stick his tongue out at him quite maturely, his cheeks dusted with bright pink blush.

Out of everyone back in Camelot, Gwaine had been one of the very few to know of Merlin’s true feelings for Arthur. He’d held the warlock whenever seeing Arthur and Gwen together got to be too much to bear, and in return, Merlin had encouraged him to act on his affections for Percival. They’d only been together for a handful of weeks before Camlann, and Percy had never moved on afterwards. Merlin hadn’t been surprised in the least to see them together in this life too.

Gwaine sat down beside Merlin, and they enjoyed being in each other’s company in silence as they watched Arthur flit through the flat, trying to find everyone. “Remember all that advice you gave me about Percy?” he asked nonchalantly, as if both of them didn’t know where this was heading. Merlin groaned and ducked his head.

“Gwaine, I swear to the Goddess, if you tell me to take my own advice and make a move on Arthur-” he warned, and the knight snorted.

“Ah, you always were a smart one, Merls,” he said, clapping the young man on the back. “I’ve seen the way he’s been looking at you. He’s too much of an idiot to make the first move. I think he’s worried you’ll feel obligated to say yes or something idiotic like that,” Gwaine said, shaking his head.

“As if I ever did something just because he told me to,” Merlin agreed.

“Exactly! But the poor bloke doesn’t have much sense in his head when it comes to serious stuff like this, so use those brains of yours and ask him out,” Gwaine said, poking Merlin in the side to emphasize his point. Merlin scrunched his nose at him.

“Ask him out?” Merlin echoed, confused. “Out where?”

Gwaine stared at him, then smacked his own forehead, mumbling under his breath. “Right. You don’t know anything about the modern world. A lot has changed, mate. I dunno how you’re going to catch up on everything that’s happened.”

“Gaius offered to help me on that, at least as far as medical advances are concerned,” Merlin reassured him. Gwaine nodded, looking a little more at ease. “But, um, he also said you lot might need to help me when it comes to everything else,” he admitted. Gwaine groaned, his head falling back to stare up at the ceiling.

“‘Course he did,” he griped, although there was amusem*nt in his voice. Merlin smirked at his friend’s exasperation. By this time, most of their friends were trickling back into the kitchen and taking seats at various spots around the table. With a lurch, Merlin was suddenly and vividly reminded of the Round Table. Gaius’ was more oval in shape, but only just, so that while Arthur sat at one of the longer ends and Morgana at the other, there was no sense that they were at the heads of the table. The rest took seats wherever they pleased, but by some unspoken agreement, they left the seat to Arthur’s right empty, and the young king smiled as he gestured for Merlin to take it.

Merlin exhaled, trying to let go of the nerves that were making his shoulders tense and his ears ring, and slowly sunk down into the chair. He took a moment to appreciate the gathering before him, his long-lost friends finally all together once more. If he hadn’t already cried half a dozen times today, he was sure he would tear up at the sight. “Right,” he said after he cleared his throat. “Right. So, um, I guess I should start with the basics. My name is Merlin. I’m the bloke you lot ‘woke up’ in the park a few days back. According to Gaius, I had been there for just over a thousand years. And before anyone asks, no, I’m not mad or delusional or delirious. Gaius can confirm that, if you feel so inclined to ask him. He’s also told me that-” Here, Merlin breaks off to swallow hard, and Arthur’s hand finds his under the table. “That the means I used to transform myself are no longer believed to be real. In fact,” he laughs wetly, and oh, maybe he did have more tears to shed, “Gaius says that it’s been turned into nothing more than something for- for children’s stories, for make-believe, that everyone thinks it never existed at all!” He can feel the wetness on his cheeks but makes no move to wipe it away. Arthur squeezes Merlin’s hand, never taking his eyes off of him.

“Mate,” Leon began slowly, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “Are you saying you used… magic?”

The rest of the heads in the room turned to Merlin, who could do nothing more than nod as another soft sob choked him. Morgana looked stricken, and Merlin knew that she was aware of the reason why he was breaking.

“It worked,” she whispered, and the others started to look towards her, all wearing various expressions of confusion.

“What worked, Morgana?” Gwen asked, looking back and forth between her and Merlin, as if she could see the answer written out plainly on their faces.

“The Purge,” the witch whimpered, her eyes wide as Merlin nodded again and buried his face into Arthur’s shirt.

“Isn’t that a film?” asked Elyan. Gwen whirled on her brother and smacked his arm, and he shot her a look of helpless confusion as he rubbed the spot that now stung. She gave him a look in return that said That’s not what she meant and you know it.

“It was a genocide, a crusade,” Gaius said, his voice thick with regret and grief. “The first crusade, centuries before the church waged war in the Holy Lands. Uther wanted to rid Camelot of magic, so he used his power as king to hunt down everyone who had even a trace of it in their veins. Whole villages were wiped out. Nearly every high priest and priestess of the Old Religion was forced into cold iron and killed. Creatures of the Old Religion, those made of and sustained by magic, were hunted to extinction, even the Great Dragons and their Dragonlords.” Gaius let out a shaky sigh. “Children, those who were accused of nothing more than levitating their toys to their cots, were not spared from the pyre’s flames or the headsman’s axe.”

Silence settled over the group. Leon and Arthur looked horrified, while Elyan had taken on a sickened expression. Gwen was crying softly into Lance, who was grim-faced and shaking. Morgana was fighting tears of her own. Merlin had recomposed himself enough to pick up where Gaius left off, although his voice was still tremulous.

“Even after Uther died, the Purge continued in spirit. The ideas that he’d pushed into the people’s heads didn’t disappear overnight. Magic was still feared, still hated. Uther’s son, Arthur, did his best to stop the executions, but people came after him simply because of who his father was, and he had no choice but to kill them. The rest of the remaining magic community only saw Arthur continuing to slaughter their kind, regardless of the reason why, and eventually, his own life was ended for it. The common people knew that he was brought down by magic users, and the division between the two groups grew and grew until the few remaining Druids and rogue spellcasters faded from society entirely. In the end, it took less than a hundred years for all magic to be gone from our world. All but me.” And Aithusa and Kilgharrah, but he had a feeling that the dragons were a story for another time - probably once everyone got their memories back and had a chance to come to terms with them.

There was another silent pause in the flat, one that was punctuated solely by car horns and the murmur of pedestrians on sidewalks and the constant hum of electric motors that seemed to power everything in this modern age. Gwen was drying her tears on the cuff of her sleeve, her eyes shot through with puffy redness. Morgana was faring better, but barely, and Merlin could see that she was gripping Leon’s hand tightly in an effort to force her own emotions back. Everyone was in various stages of shock and disbelief. Merlin could almost see the cogs spinning in their minds as they tried to take in what had just been said. None of them had missed the fact that Arthur had once been king.

Arthur had his head bowed, looking pensive and unsure. It was he who broke the thick silence in the kitchen. “I believe you, Merlin. I swear. Everything you’ve said matches too perfectly with the dreams Morgana and I have had to be anything but the truth. I think I can say that the others believe you too,” he guessed, then looked quickly at his friends, who were all nodding. “But neither Morgana nor I have our full memories. Is there- Is there some way you can help us remember?” he asked. There was an edge of desperation in his voice that Merlin was quick to soothe.

“I can,” he assured Arthur, then gestured to the mementos still on the table. They quickly drew the attention of those seated around them; even Percy and Gwaine, who had already been through the process, were curious about it. “Before I left Camelot, I managed to gather various items, each of them precious in their own way. They all belonged to specific people who were important to me.” Merlin stood up, then gestured to the pendant on Gwaine’s neck and the book of poems in Percy’s hands. “I didn’t want to forget anything about y- about my friends, since I knew I was going to live a lot longer than normal people, so I used my magic to copy my memories and put them into the objects. Each one is devoted to the memories of that specific person.” The people around the table were nodding again, finding his explanation easy to follow so far.

Merlin continued. “I discovered that, if I reversed the spell and put the memories back into the person that they were originally about, it would unlock all of that person’s memories from that time. Apparently the soul needs a bit of a push to start to remember properly,” he said with a shrug. “But it worked. Gaius, Gwaine, and Percival- sorry, Percy - have all had their memories restored that way.”

A commotion broke out at that. Most of the noise stemmed from the fact that the aforementioned trio had been hiding their restored status from everyone else up until that point. Merlin held up his hands to silence them, which worked only when Morgana stood up as well and slammed her hand down onto the table, causing everyone else to jump. “Quiet!” she snapped. “Merlin had to test his theory before he knew it would work. Gwaine and Percy just happened to get here first. And if you keep interrupting him, none of us will end up being restored except those three! Do you want your memories back or not?” It was a rhetorical question, but it had everyone nodding in agreement anyways. The Seer huffed, then flopped back down into her chair with a dramatic flourish. “Do continue, Merlin, darling,” she purred, flashing him a sincere but still terrifying smile.

“Er, thanks, Morgana,” he stammered, making Arthur chuckle. “Right. Anyways. Here, let me give you all your things before I continue,” he decided, then shuffled around the room as he distributed the trinkets back to their owners. Gwen and Morgana were delighted to see that their items were pieces of jewelry, and Morgana didn’t hesitate at all to place her circlet on her head, much to everyone else’s amusem*nt. Elyan held his gloves with reverence, whispering a soft thanks to Merlin as he passed by. Leon took his dagger with care, his eyes wide as he examined the still-sharp blade, and Lance was so touched that Merlin had kept his sword that he leapt from his chair and hugged him. Merlin huffed, a little embarrassed, and returned the brief embrace.

“Hold onto your memento while I cast the reversal spell. You might be a little disoriented afterwards, but you shouldn’t feel poorly or concussed or anything of that sort. Alright?” They agreed, most of them visibly bracing themselves for the spell as though it was a physical blow. Merlin rolled his eyes, then whispered the spell, his eyes going gold for only a moment as his closest friends were restored.

The result was a bit chaotic, to put it lightly. Morgana was the least affected, predictably, as she’d already Seen a great deal of it in her dreams, but the rest had not been as prepared. Gwen gasped, then flung herself at both Elyan and Lance in turn, vividly recalling how they had been taken from her. Leon’s face was stony, but his hand never left Morgana’s, causing relief to flood through her. She knew that they had a long, long discussion ahead of them. They all began to talk at once, their voices rising as they remembered more and more about themselves and each other.

In the middle of it all, Merlin turned to Arthur, a small smile on his pale face.

The blond looked up at him, his brow furrowed. Understandable, since there were no more items on the table. “And me?” he asked. Merlin let out a deep breath, then, with surprising grace, knelt before his king. It drove the room to silence once more. None of them had ever seen Merlin truly subservient to the king before.

“There was only one item I could think of that was deserving of housing your memories, Arthur. I had considered your mother’s sigil, but you had given that to me as a gift, so it’s not quite yours anymore.”

“Fair,” Arthur conceded, smiling softly. Merlin nudged him.

“Quit interrupting me, prat. I’m trying to make a speech here,” he teased. It had Arthur let out a snort and an insincere apology. “ Any way. Arthur.” The knight sat up straighter in his chair, feeling the weight of Merlin’s words now. “I also considered your signet ring, your cloak, and your crown, but none of those felt quite right either. None of them truly embodied who you were. I finally decided on the one thing that did.” As Merlin’s hands went towards the sword on his belt, Arthur let out a soft gasp, realizing what it was.

“Is that…?” he asked, eyes wide with wonder and awe.

“Don’t worry, sire. I won’t make you pull it from a stone this time,” Merlin teased. As the last knot fell away, Merlin adjusted his hold on the sheath so that, when he presented the sword to Arthur, still kneeling, it lay flat across his palms. “Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, druid-named Once and Future King, I give you the sword Excalibur. Forged in the breath of the Great Dragon Kilgharrah and blessed by the Lady of the Lake, this sword is your and yours alone. Take it, and with it, your destiny. Tæcan duguð ingemynd binnan. ” Merlin’s eyes flared gold as Arthur’s hand curled around the grip, and the king cried out in shock as memories poured into his mind.

Leon rushed forwards, ready to catch him in case he slipped from his seat, but Arthur waved him off with mumbled thanks as the tide of memories began to ebb. A headache pounded deep in his temples, and he rubbed at them ineffectually to try to soothe the ache. He felt a pair of slender hands gently grab his wrists and pull them away from his head. He didn’t get to question it, however, as a soft tendril of what could only be magic eased its way into his skin and chased away the pain.

Arthur opened his eyes, not realizing they had snapped shut in the initial onslaught, and was met with the concerned face of a familiar warlock. His warlock. Arthur’s heart leapt, and he quickly freed his wrists from Merlin’s grasp in order to intertwine their fingers, setting the sword aside as though it was worthless compared to the sight before him. “Merlin,” he whispered, feeling warmth in his cheeks and the corners of his eyes.

Merlin let out a great shuddering breath and bowed his head. Their foreheads softly came together, and Arthur’s face soon grew wet with tears. Merlin held him to his chest as the blond shuddered and sobbed, relief and grief pouring from his eyes in equal measure. The rest of those at the table quickly dispersed into other parts of the flat to give them their privacy. Morgana lingered in the doorway, catching Merlin’s eye. She gave him a single nod that was accompanied by a rare approving smile, and Merlin returned both gestures before returning his full attention to Arthur.

The sun was just starting to begin its descent towards the western horizon when Arthur finally dried his face and managed to compose himself enough to speak. His voice was still thick and rough, and errant tears occasionally slipped out of his eyes, but Merlin could see the acceptance and grace beginning to settle into his bones.

Arthur pulled away from Merlin and cleared his throat, his hand rubbing idly at the back of his own neck. “So, uh… Bit embarrassing,” he began, and Merlin snorted.

“Don’t let Gaius hear you say that. He told me that he won’t let anyone be bullied for having emotions while under his roof,” Merlin warned with just a touch of a teasing lilt in his tone. “And I’m pretty sure that includes bullying yourself.”

“Shut up, Mer lin,” Arthur responded without thought, then blinked as if startled by his own words. It had felt both odd and completely right to say that. Even though this version of him had never once said it before now, he knew just the right way to say it, what sort of affectionate tone to use, and where exactly in the words to emphasize in order for maximum eye-rolling.

Maybe he needed some more time for the memories to integrate fully. Everything still felt a bit weird, as though the world was off-kilter. But when he gathered the courage to look up through his lashes at Merlin, the world suddenly righted itself, and he felt more centered than he could ever remember feeling before.

A surge of fierce something reared up within him, protective and fond and exasperated and giddy all at once. It took a moment to name, but when he could, it was little shock to realize that the myriad emotions and wants and needs could be summed up in one simple little word:

Love.

Arthur loved Merlin.

And he was pretty sure Merlin loved him back, if the look in his bright blue eyes was any indication. Arthur hesitated, though. The last thing he wanted to do was force his manservant - ex-manservant? - into reciprocating. Merlin was headstrong and stubborn on a good day, but crossing this specific boundary was something they had never even talked about before. Would Merlin’s defiance extend this far? And even if it did, and Merlin still felt the same way, how could he ever be completely certain?

Arthur was drawn out of his spiraling by the press of something warm and soft against his lips. Arthur blinked, taken aback until he realized what was pressed against him. Or rather, who.

Merlin had somehow climbed into his lap amidst his mini breakdown and was now straddling his thighs, putting enough pressure on his legs to ground him back in reality. It was also a great position for kissing, as they both had discovered when Merlin, in a burst of courage and impulsivity, closed the last few inches of distance between their mouths.

Arthur’s hands immediately closed around Merlin’s waist, drawing a surprised squeak from the black-haired man. He tried to escape, assuming the worst, but Arthur held firm, and Merlin quickly realized that Arthur was returning the kiss, not pushing him away. The warlock melted into Arthur’s arms and slung his own hands over the blond’s broad shoulders, working his slender fingers into the soft, short hairs at the base of his neck. Arthur moaned appreciatively and pulled Merlin even closer, his thumbs rubbing back forth over the jut of his hip bones.

All too soon, Merlin pulled away, and Arthur had to stifle a laugh at just how wrecked and reluctant he looked. He was sure he looked much the same, although his ego made him doubt that he had the desperation in his eyes that Merlin did. “Hey,” Arthur said softly, still stroking his hips in a languid fashion. “You alright?”

Merlin bit his lip and nodded, his cheeks bright red as he realized what had just happened. He tried to hide them behind his hands, but a throaty chuckle and the sudden presence of Arthur’s fingers around his wrists made that impossible. He mustered a glare that he sent Arthur’s way, but the idiot just snorted and shook his head, then leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Merlin’s temple. “You’re adorable like this,” he murmured, making Merlin’s face and ears turn even more red.

“Prat,” he grumbled without heat, deciding to hide his head in the junction of Arthur’s neck and shoulder instead. He bounced as Arthur’s chest rose and fell with laughter, and the more exasperated he looked, the harder Arthur laughed.

Merlin continued to grumble nonsense under his breath (mostly insulting Arthur’s intelligence and lack of wit), but his heart was never in it. It was their odd way of showing affection; it had been that way ever since their friendship first developed in Camelot. Insults were terms of endearment, much to the bemusem*nt of those who didn’t know how close they really were. The knights had known, of course, as had Gwen, Gaius, and Morgana, but Merlin had almost gotten into trouble a number of times with new recruits and men left over from Uther’s reign. Bad-mouthing the king was tantamount to treason, after all, and no one insulted Arthur more than Merlin did. But they quickly learned that Merlin was, for some reason, the exception to nearly ever rule. He was beloved by almost everyone in the kingdom, and for him to lose his head for something as mundane as calling Arthur a “clotpole” would surely have resulted in riots.

Merlin knew that little would change about their relationship now that they had kissed. They’d always skirted the line between friends and something more, but the laws of Camelot had been sadly different, and nothing could have ever come of them indulging in such “deviance”. Merlin would have been dismissed from service under Uther’s reign, at the very least, and he couldn’t have risked that, not while Mordred and Morgana and an infinite number of other threats stood between Arthur and a long, peaceful life.

But now there was nothing standing in their way. Morgana, despite having her memories back, was still kind and gentle and soft. Merlin could hear her joking with Gwaine and Lance in the other room - no doubt trying to come up with pranks that would involve Merlin’s magic and an unsuspecting Arthur, with Gwen trying to dissuade them from doing anything too over-the-top.

Yes, Arthur must have returned for a reason, as had the rest of their friends. But Merlin could feel nothing stirring within the Earth, nor could he sense any imminent upheaval in the fabric of society. Perhaps the cause for their return was years away. Merlin wouldn’t let himself or the others get complacent, of course, but he had a feeling he could relax for now.

And when the Greatest Need did come, he knew they would be ready to face it together. At Arthur’s side, Merlin knew he could take on the world.