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"It seems to be the first time in my life that I am glad to see you".
The words come out of Arthur's mouth easily and quickly, like the birds that gathered in a whirlwind as soon as the earth was covered by a cold winter.
Sapphire eyes stare into the blue in front of him, and though Pendragon would never admit it, even under the threat of death, the familiar lights inside his servant's pupils are reassuring and comforting.
There he is. Alive. There is no more deadly pale skin, sweat, and spasms of pain, as on that fateful evening when Merlin's lips touched a seemingly ordinary glass with a poisonous flower petal hiding at the bottom.
The boy blinks, seemingly a little shocked by the king's kindness.
The burden that had been weighing on Arthur's chest during the entire journey finally lifts.
His body went from slightly hunched and heavy to more relaxed, and the fatigue he had been holding back was now flowing through his veins. How long had he been awake, fearing for the life of the man his father had nicknamed "the usual substitute servant"?
How many times has he reproached himself for not being able to stop the inevitable?
Muscles are humming and my blood is pounding in my veins.
His pulse is racing, whether from joy or excitement.
He stands on the threshold of Merlin's room (which is partly the home of the old court physician), hesitantly dragging the toe of his shoe on the floor.
"I'm... glad to see you too."
Wrapping himself in a warm blanket, the young man barely smiles. The tension that was visible in his shoulders falls off like the last leaves from the trees in autumn.
The wizard also seems to be relieved to see the future king standing before him, unharmed and alive.
His breathing became steadier, and his fingernails no longer clutched the cloth that wrapped his body so tightly.
The prince looks down at his still slightly damp dark locks and wide smile, thinking that it is still a much more pleasant sight than his painful face.
He tries not to think about the memories that have haunted him all these long nights.
A shiver runs down his spine, tickling his spine and twisting his joints and bones.
Arthur pushes away the terrible visions of possible loss.
Merlin is alive, it's not a mirage.
"I brought you something," he suddenly remembers his burden.
Merlin stirs, his reaction slow, as if the poison has not yet fully worn off. But perhaps Arthur is just being paranoid and these are just the results of a quick recovery.
He is holding a tray and it is... filled with food.
"Is this...?"
"Uh... I thought you might want... you know... a snack... I went to the kitchen... to the cooks and asked for some food for you, so I guess they were... generous."
A laugh echoes through the empty room.
They meet eyes again. A shadow of surprise and a fleeting flash of happiness passes over Merlin's face.
"Thank you..."
Arthur holds the weighed delicacies on the plate and takes a step, while Merlin is about to stand up.
"You can sit down, I'll get it for you."
He freezes, and silence envelops the room.
"I'm feeling better, I can..." Merlin insists.
"No, Merlin, I know you can... but I want to do it myself."
Arthur suppresses the budding pangs of irritation at his stubbornness.
Merlin calms his rebellion and obeys.
The loud clink of dishes breaks the silence.
"Thank you... for everything," Merlin says again, seriously.
"Stop it. You don't have to thank me. I couldn't have done it otherwise... I couldn't have left you like that. And you... drank that poison... even though you didn't have to."
Arthur stood opposite me, his eyes staring at one of the holes in the cheese, as if it held all the secrets of the world.
"Yes... well... I couldn't help it," Merlin said, quoting his lord.
"But you also saved me, didn't you?" he continues, and his fingers reach for an apple that shimmers with crimson and peach hues. His fingers play with the fruit, stroking the skin.
"So it's 1:1?"
Merlin shrugs, merriment playing in his features again.
"Yeah.. exactly."
He picks up another apple, a greener one, and tosses it to Arthur.
"Enjoy. I don't think I can handle it alone."
He smiles slightly as he deftly catches the tossed fruit and watches Merlin take a bite and chew, but then the corner of his mouth twitches.
"So sour?" asks Arthur.
"No... I just thought... forget it."
He nudges Merlin with his foot.
"Say it already."
"It's strange to see a prince bring his servant pj's... but it's... comforting and not so bad."
Pendragon gnashes coldly.
"Don't get too excited. It was the first and last time, and tomorrow you'll have to return to your usual duties, polishing my armor and washing my shirts."
But his eyes still sparkle with mirth.
"All right, Your Majesty," Merlin waggles his eyebrow, just as shameless and pleased with himself.
But Arthur doesn't seem to mind.
He turns around, heading for the exit.
Touching the handle, Pendragon turns his head.
"See you tomorrow, Merlin."
"Yes. See you tomorrow."
Arthur walks down the long corridor, looking at the apple that was jokingly handed to him by his clumsy, slightly careless, completely uneducated in manners and martial arts, but loyal and ready for anything servant.
It occurs to him that maybe tomorrow Merlin won't have to wash his shirts because they aren't that dirty.
******
"This is the second time in my life that I am glad to see you."
This sentence nearly knocks Merlin off his feet as he opens the door to Arthur's room. The scraping noise cuts his ears, and he feels as if it might cause his hearing to deteriorate a hundredfold. Merlin thinks that perhaps he should grease the damn hinges, but... the realization completely takes the ground from under his feet, shatters him into small pieces.
He will not return.
No more daily chores, no more walks to collect all the herbs Gaius needs, no more of the old man himself-a slightly stern, capricious, but kind man who, in a short period of time, has become like the father he never had.
That's Nimue's deal. His life for his mother's life.
The bandages and ointment in his hands tremble. His skin is covered with shivers.
"Are you going to stand at the entrance or come in?"
Pendragon finally responds, sitting down on a chair and stretching his legs out in front of him.
His demanding voice brings Merlin back to reality.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Of course I'm coming."
The wizard moves even more awkwardly than usual toward his master, maintaining his expressionlessness.
Stopping at the table, he places a small bottle on the surface.
"Ready?" he asks.
Nod.
His fingers reach for the bandage, carefully untie it, barely touching the wound, but the very touch makes Pendragon grit his teeth for a few seconds.
"Be patient. It will hurt a bit."
Arthur takes as much air as he can into his lungs. For a moment, he feels as if his insides are burning with agonizing pain as he inhales, but then it's over.
The dirty bandages hang in Merlin's palms until he squeezes them and puts them away.
He takes out the medicine and checks the scar on his skin.
His fingers tickle slightly, but Arthur just sighs, enjoying the cool mixture.
It relieves the tension in his body, easing his torment.
The touches become more frequent, and Pendragon's discontent grows with them, fed up with the unbearable silence.
"You're quiet today."
Merlin stops at this abrupt statement, gauze scraping his hands.
"You didn't complain before... you liked it."
Arthur grunts.
"It's different this time."
Merlin goes back to treating the wound.
The brave and sharp remark stings the tip of his tongue, but it doesn't leave his lips.
Not now.
"Explain to me what is going on with you, Merlin?"
Arthur's aquamarine eyes are demanding, but he's not going to push.
"Nothing. Everything is... fine."
Merlin lies too brazenly, almost finishing the bandage.
"You can't lie... ouch," he snaps.
He pulls it tighter.
"It will hold better this way."
Tenderness permeates his movements again, but suddenly Arthur grasps his wrist firmly, but not painfully, as if to warn him.
"Arthur, I have to..."
"Yes, but first you're going to tell me what the hell is going on with you. Now."
Even weakened by his wound, he was still himself as he sat on the carved wooden chair with its short legs, eager to get the truth out of Merlin.
"I'm really glad you're alive..."
Arthur lets go of him, but doesn't take his hands away completely.
Goosebumps run down the wizard's back again at the memory of what he had experienced.
"So it's because you're worried about me?"
Merlin barely smiles.
"Perhaps," he dodges a direct answer.
Pendragon looks into the space between them, somewhere at a small crack in the floor beside him.
Merlin can't tell what thoughts are going through His Majesty's mind.
"Arthur, I..." he finally decides to speak, "I will always serve you and I would do anything to... protect you."
It's not a question at all, more of a promise.
His fingernails scratch at the bare skin, spreading heat beneath.
Arthur's gaze warms up, ray wrinkles play around his eyelids, but in a moment they fade away like a candle flame from a breath.
"Why are you telling me this?"
A strange, tingling trace of vague anxiety flickers across his face.
"I just wanted you... to know about it."
Pendragon fidgets, uncharacteristically for himself, in search of a more comfortable position.
Merlin takes his hand away from the cloth, so rough but soft at the same time.
The bandage is finished.
"You know that I... believe that you are a prat, but you are... royal one. And you will be a good king one day."
Merlin's insulting nickname on the first day of their meeting made Arthur smile for a moment.
"I don't know whether to take it as an insult or a compliment. You don't seem inclined to the latter."
Merlin rolls his eyes, but he doesn't feel angry. Only a slight dull ache, mixed with sadness, that pounds like a tiny hammer on the bones of his skull.
"But your behavior today is very... mysterious... like you're... going somewhere?"
"Yeah, I mean, no... not really. It's nothing."
Arthur stares at Merlin with a penetrating and at the same time expectant look, but nothing happens.
"All right," he finally nods.
"Good luck with... whatever it is you're up to. I hope you're not going to the tavern, because you have to be at the same time tomorrow morning as usual."
Merlin's heart is beating harder and faster.
"Yeah. Of course."
He agrees. But there will be no more mornings.
His fingers reach into Pendragon's shirt and lift the pi.
"You want to wear this?"
"Perhaps I should... it's uncomfortable to sit with my back bare... the chair makes it itch."
Merlin gently picks up the pinafore and begins to put it on, finding himself in Arthur's personal space.
This time it feels... different. But he is not going to react to it.
Hear a groan of suffering from the movements and stretching of the barely scabbed wounds.
"I hope this thing will go away soon, it's just impossible to train."
Merlin wants to laugh. Even before he recovers, the prince is eager to fight.
The boy's zeal has always impressed and angered him at the same time.
"At least you're not dying and your delusions are over."
Arthur pauses, raising his head.
"You know about...? But how?"
"Guinevere told me everything that... happened."
Pendragon blinks, and a light pink blush appears on his cheeks.
"Everything?"
He nods in the affirmative.
He stutters again, like a child who has just learned to speak.
Merlin steps back and quickly turns to the table in front of him.
"Gwen... Guinevere... said that..."
His hands move the tincture he brought to help him sleep away.
"You were talking while you were unconscious...mumbling something...indecipherable...about Camelot, your father, her...and me."
Merlin still longs to turn to face Arthur and is afraid to do so, afraid to see a flash of hope for the impossible, knowing the future that awaits him.
His breathing is too loud.
Arthur twitches, intending either to stand up or, conversely, to take a more comfortable position.
His skin glows golden-bronze in the light of the small fire.
His fingers grip the armrests.
"But she didn't say anything...nothing specific," Merlin lies, locking himself away somewhere behind the bars of his soul, forgetting the truth of his friend's words: "He called you... several times. Begged you to stay. At first I couldn't even make out the soft mumbling, but then I realized".
He has to go. If he wasted any more time, his mother would die, and then...
Merlin could not allow that to happen, nor could he forgive failure. Nimue was waiting.
"Uh huh ...."
Arthur glances out the window and at the dark clouds that have filled the sky.
Raindrops are already starting to patter softly on the roofs.
"Can I go? " Merlin finally asks, eager to hear the answer as soon as possible.
"Yes."
He rustles, walking toward the door. But suddenly a muffled voice stops him.
"Merlin," he turns around, "about those... hallucinations and everything....
Arthur looks into the eyes across the room.
"I....it's all..."
"Only strange visions caused by the beast's venom, which are best left unmentioned?" Merlin finishes for him with a mute question and swallows a heavy lump in his throat.
He has succeeded in suppressing the germ of his feelings (at least he thinks so, he keeps telling himself that it's for the best, even though he's not doing a very good job of it).
Arthur's lips curl for a second, and his fingernails stop scratching the railing.
A lot of emotions alternate and combine in him. But the coldness and seriousness are evident in his features.
"Yes. Of course. Just try to tell anyone, and I'll ...."
"You'll send me to the pads?"
"You're being a smart ass today".
"Yeah... yeah," he smiles.
And Merlin walks out the door without another word.
He hurriedly walks through the castle corridors.
His chest feels strangely tight from Arthur's words, but he doesn't care.
Something else is more important now. To do this for his mother, for Arthur.
This is his destiny, his duty.
And he will fulfill it.
*****
"It is the third time in my life that I am truly glad to see you, Merlin."
He looks up to where the former prince, the new King of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon, stands in the bright sunlight.
His face reflects a multitude of emotions that he is unable to hide.
But perhaps some of the most visible are pain, sadness, fear, and disappointment.
From now on, the power of the kingdom belongs to young Arthur.
Merlin sees the determination, the willingness to defend his people, the desire to make these lands prosperous, lasting, and developed, breaking through the wall of all the negativity.
"You've been sitting here all this time?"
Merlin nods.
"I could not leave you".
Didn't want to, perhaps it would have been even more right. Guilt weighed on his soul. Uther was dead because of him.
"Merlin, listen to me, it's not your fault, okay? Morgana used a spell that reversed the life spell. There was nothing you could have done."
That was what Gaius had told him a few hours ago. But he wasn't entirely right.
If only he had found that amulet sooner. If only he'd had the magic to break the curse.
But even magic was powerless against death, which was constantly closing its millstone on Uther.
"You're a good friend, Merlin," Arthur smiles slightly and immediately extends his hand to him, offering help, something he rarely did.
And Merlin takes it. Warm, strong, as always. His tired muscles cramped, but he didn't say a word, sneezing at his own discomfort, the coldness of the marble gone.
They stood there, facing each other.
Only now, when the momentary flicker of joy at his master's appearance dissolved into anxiety, did Merlin notice how Pendragon's eyes were reddened with tears.
The small circles under his eyes had recently become darker, and his unruly locks were tangled.
His pupils showed fatigue.
"I... brought you some... food... maybe it's a little cold," Merlin suddenly recalls, leaning over to the ledge on which the plate was standing.
"I thought... you might want to eat a little."
He picked up the bowl and squeezed it with his fingers.
"I'm not really ...."
But with a sigh, Arthur agreed, not wanting to devalue the cooks' work, let alone spoil the food.
"Thank you..." he says for the second time in their time together.
Perhaps because of the long hours of insomnia, or maybe it was true, Merlin thinks he was grateful for more than just the food.
"Will you have breakfast with me?"
Merlin blinks, not immediately realizing the meaning of the words.
"Breakfast?" he repeats like a trained parrot.
Arthur nods weakly.
"Okay"
Merlin doesn't feel hungry at all, but if he doesn't do this important thing for his body, it will have very unpleasant consequences.
"Then let's go," Pendragon says dryly.
They walk down the passage.
Merlin looks at the slumped shoulders, the prone figure in front of him, recalling the moments of Uther's death over and over again and chastising himself.
Arthur glances at the family crest as he passes by.
The weight of the loss comes back like a wagon wheel. There is less air in his lungs.
Uther is dead.
Inhale and exhale. Reality kicks him hard. He has lost his mother, his father, and even his own sister, who is ready to plunge a sword right into his heart If only there was an opportunity.
Arthur clenches and unclenches his palms again, powerlessness spreading through his body.
Merlin walks beside him, just as silent.
Pendragon doesn't believe it himself, but this clumsy servant comforts his heart like a lantern of hope in the pitch blackness that his future seems to be.
He pushes open the oak doors of the hall, ignoring the guards posted on each side.
They only tactfully salute as Pendragon passes.
"Here you go," Merlin says in a slightly hoarse voice after a few minutes, placing the plate in front of him.
Arthur doesn't answer, sitting down in a chair.
His eyes are staring at a point invisible to others.
Merlin insists neither on dialog nor on a quick devouring of the food. He moves to the side so as not to distract the king.
"Merlin, sit down."
Merlin stops and thinks about it for about ten seconds.
He sits down next to Arthur, feeling a little strange, because usually only nobles occupied such seats.
Arthur looks at the ham, cheese, a piece of bread, and two apples.
On other days, he would probably complain that it was too little Merlin thought wistfully.
Pendragon, without hesitation, divided everything between the two of them.
This made Merlin look at his hands with distrust and at everything around him with surprise and incredulity.
"You need to eat something, too," Arthur says calmly, placing the food in front of him.
Merlin glares at him.
"I didn't think you would....
"I offered you breakfast, and that's what we're doing."
Merlin makes no comment, slowly beginning to bite and chew.
Arthur repeats. His movements were as if he were on an automaton, as if he were not Pendragon, but only an exact copy of him.
The room was silent. No one dared to disturb the meal.
When they finished, they still didn't get up.
"I'll clean up."
Merlin couldn't help but jump up and grab the dish.
As he was about to walk away, his elbow was clasped by his fingers.
He froze in anticipation. Arthur's grip was somehow a plea to listen.
"Merlin. I have to say that I am... still grateful that despite everything you have stayed here with me. When my father died, I..." his hand eased the pressure a little, "I felt nothing but emptiness and didn't know where I was supposed to go from here. I still feel a certain... confusion about having... let that happen."
The blue of the sky looked into the waves of the sea. The hesitant exchange lasted a few seconds.
Arthur was sitting in front of him, baring his soul, being completely honest. Not hiding anything.
"You're not to blame for Uther's death, Arthur... you don't have to..."
Merlin takes a half-step and stops, realizing that he cannot cross the boundary of his friend's personal space.
"You don't have to punish yourself for this...your father...I don't think he would have wanted you to think that, he never did."
Arthur doesn't say anything.
"But I know for a fact that he wanted you to continue to rule Camelot."
"But would I be a decent king? Am I ready to take that place?"
He asks the unknown person uncertainly.
"Yeah," Merlin confidently confirms, "neither I, nor Guinevere, nor any citizen of the city has any doubts."
Arthur smiles gently.
"Did you say that to support me?"
"No, you said yourself that I'm no good at this. So it's true. You will be a good king."
Arthur bows his head, various thoughts poisoning his brain.
"I hope that's not flattery. I don't like it," he says without a hint of amusement.
"Neither do I."
The realization that he has been holding on to his faithful servant for far too long strikes him in the temples like lightning.
Pendragon lets go of Merlin, accidentally (or maybe not) catching on his skin, causing his insides to fold like paper.
He gets up and quickly walks away to the window.
Merlin, meanwhile, stomps toward the exit. His fingernails scratch the material of the empty half-bowl.
He tries not to focus too much on what it was and what it meant for the two of them.
"Merlin?" Arthur calls out, not even flinching.
"Hm?"
"I'd like you to have breakfast with me tomorrow, too..."
"You... you mean just breakfast?"
"Of course. You and me."
There's a hint of contradiction in this invitation.
"And it's best not to... tell anyone about it. Understand?"
Now the eyes of the color of a beryl fragment looked into almost the same ones, only deeper. They are full of unspoken words, hovering somewhere in the space between them.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"You may go now. I'll call you... later," Arthur says finally.
And Merlin leaves, as he was asked.
A new era has begun for Camelot, led by a new ruler.
And Merlin will always be with him, no matter what times they face.
Passing by the throne room, he looks up at the throne where Uther had recently sat.
Anger and mild disgust gave way to humility and a brief glimmer of regret that faded in a minute.
Fate has brought Arthur to the reigns and he is ready to follow this guide, which is his life's guiding light.
The wind from outside the curtains sways the same tapestry, and the light paints it in the crimson-cherry color of blood mixed with the gold of a huge dragon embroidered on the canvas.
*****
"This is the fourth time in my life that I'm glad to see you, and I'm talking about the real you," Arthur manages to say, on his deathbed, in Merlin's arms. The body does not obey, and the clawed claws of death are rapidly approaching the mind, spreading a fog of dizziness that is growing, eager to drag him into the black abyss.
Neither the moisture nor the mud causes any sensation anymore.
Only one thought kept running through his mind - Merlin is a sorcerer.
Surprisingly, there is no hatred, which his father wanted to instill in him, no desire to destroy the "magical bastard" (as Uther sometimes called wizards).
Why?
Why? the voice in him screams, and he knows the answer.
He can't, and probably never would. Not with Merlin.
Though the viper's reasoning bites painfully at his soul, whispering:
He has you wrapped around his finger. Can't you see it? What if he is a traitor...?
But crushed by the words "I did it only for you. For your sake," they die in the mists.
All that remains is gratitude, sadness, love, guilt, and... a frail bundle of disbelief, conviction that it was all a joke. Merlin is playing a joke on him.
But his eyes, filled with a somewhat repressed truth, do not lie.
Everything inside Pendragon broke at the news. But his resentment at the concealment of such an important detail fades away, replaced by a realization of why his servant had not revealed the secret.
Lying in the middle of the forest, deeply wounded by Mordred's sword, Arthur reflects on all the years of living with this seemingly simple boy.
It is as if he has been slapped, and not just once. Merlin's "the same six senses" , his eccentricity, everything about him becomes clear.
Arthur exhales, grimacing from the suffering the wound brings.
He closes his eyes, imagining for just a moment what if things had been different and he hadn't been so devoid of observation. What if he hadn't ignored these signals that his consciousness was hinting at?
Everything could have been different. Not this way.
Not so... wrong.
He is being called again. Who else but Merlin?
He sits at his side, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Arthur... you can't go..."
The king looks up at the pre-dawn sky. Small specks of stars are flashing for the last time.
"Merlin... listen to me..." he begins.
"No, no, no... save your strength... we... we'll be there soon... we can..."
"Merlin..." "No...you can't....I can't... I can't leave you like this".
"Merlin, I'm sorry."
The wizard blinks and looks up at him.
"You don't have to..."
"I do. You need to know that..."
A cough interrupts him.
"I didn't mean for you to...to hide this...this...part of you...I didn't mean to," Arthur mutters like a prayer of apology.
"It's not your fault. It was my fate."
Merlin smiles painfully.
"I could have changed it, but ...."
"Forget it, Arthur, do you hear me? None of this matters anymore."
Arthur rests his head on his
his shoulders. The dead icy cold burns the warmth of Emrys' tunic.
He seeks as much touch as possible.
"I have to tell you something I haven't told you before. ...."
Another cough, a bit quieter.
Arthur's fingers touch the servant's hair, stroking it as if caressing it, reaching up and pausing near Merlin's chin.
He opens and closes his mouth.
"Thank you..." he finally says.
Merlin sees a familiar feeling in his pupils.
"Thank you for everything."
They hover inches apart.
"Thank you... for always being there for me," Pendragon says. His hand falls to Merlin's, and he immediately squeezes it, pulling him even closer to him.
The irises become glassy, dim, and life fades away.
I will always be the wizard wants to shout, but he can't. Instead, he just repeats:
"Don't die... Arthur... Arthur, please..."
Merlin asks him, but there is no response.
And then he screams, releasing his despair. The cry is drowned somewhere in the thick of the forest around him, frightening the birds that fly up to the clouds, chirping.
Merlin bows his head, his forehead touching His Majesty's pale forehead.
"I'm sorry I failed you, Arthur."
Leaning back, he speaks his heavy thoughts out loud.
A vice squeezes his heart.
With his palm, he straightens his blond locks one last time, wiping away the streams of salty tears.
Only sobs break the silence.
Until, after a while, they stop altogether, buried in the rustling of the leaves.
*****
"This is the first time in my life that I am happy to see you"
Merlin says, standing ankle-deep in the refreshing water of Avalon. The waves of the lake sway and crash against him, wetting his pants, making him want to scratch himself, to get away.
He had forgotten that he had already lost his youthful energy to travel so quickly to a certain place.
His feet tread on the sandy bottom.
Eyes contemplate a figure, not sure whether it is real or a dream with a well-known ending.
Arthur, his king, has returned from the beyond. Just as the dragon had predicted.
And Calligarh, the old devil, did not lie Merlin almost shouted happily, but restrained himself.
Swaying, Pendragon looked up at him. There is recognition and a mix of joy, bewilderment, confusion, and interest.
"Merlin? What happened? How am I ...."
Before he can speak, the wizard pulls him into an embrace, forgetting about Arthur's caution or possible excuses.
More than a thousand and a half years dragged on like hell, with a rare flickering light of hope for a soon meeting with his faithful friend, the love that died in his arms.
Surprisingly, he does not object to this act and falls into the grip, responding exactly as his servant did.
His wet hair tickles Emrys' neck. Drops of water fall under his shirt, but it only makes him shiver with joy.
They cling to each other, ignoring everything around them.
And then Merlin lets go of Arthur.
"Where are we? This doesn't... look too much like... Camelot," he reluctantly retreats.
"This is the future. And you... and I... we are in it."
A truck rumbles by, rattling its wheels and leaving a column of smoke in its wake.
Arthur flinches slightly, reaching for his sword, but Merlin immediately grabs his wrist.
"Don't. It's all right. It's just a car."
"A car?"
"I'll explain later," he smiles weakly, letting go of Arthur's hand.
"Do you remember anything...?" he asks, concerned.
"Not much...except waking up here on the shore..I think I scared a woman who was...dressed strangely and walking around."
Arthur exhales.
"She screamed and ran away."
"We should go."
Merlin takes a step, but Pendragon continues talking again.
"You know... I remember something else."
"Hmm?"
"What happened back then... before I..."
Merlin swallows the lump in his throat and mutters:
"Died?"
Bitterness burns his tongue and palate.
"Yes... that day in the forest when you confessed that you could... do magic," he says steadily, saying the word that was so terrible a few centuries ago, "You tried to save me from the wound Mordred had inflicted.
"And failed."
Sadness pierces through this statement. But the past should be left in the past. Merlin doesn't want to remember again how he used to wake up in the middle of the night in cold sweat and hot tears, staggering on his trembling hands, all because of the same image of Arthur's death.
At once he approaches him.
The water no longer worries any of them.
"Everything I said then.... is true, Merlin. But only part of it...."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm really... grateful for everything" he spreads his hands, as if trying to show what he means "You've done too much for me ...."
"Arthur, I don't need..."
"No, this time, Merlin, you're going to let me finish. Because although I don't yet understand what this new ... world is, one thing will remain constant - I am your king. And you..." Arthur jabbed his chest with his index finger, "You must listen to me."
Merlin smiled in relief. He missed this insolence. He missed those stern blue eyes that looked at him with determination. And Merlin be damned if there was a part of him that resisted the judgment that he missed Arthur.
His very resigned expression encourages his lord.
"It should have been different... not in a damned lake in the middle of nowhere... but I suppose it was my own fault, I should have said so sooner. Even then, but I couldn't, because on that day it seemed like a disastrous thing to do."
Pendragon hesitates. It is not so easy to talk about your perennial (correction: centuries-old) feelings.
"But here we are again, in this place, and Merlin... damn it, you must know that no matter how long I've been away, I... loved you."
Merlin remained silent.
"I wish I had...done as much as you did for me with magic...."
He tilts his head, wondering how best to explain the reasons for his anguish over this.
The sorcerer must have spent what seems like an eternity waiting for him. It had been so long, and doubts were clawing at Arthur's soul.
Suddenly Merlin lightly touches his forearm.
"You did. Just as much. Even more. Not just for me, but for the kingdom. And I am grateful...as are your people."
Pendragon's eyes moisten.
His old friend smiles gently.
"And Arthur ....."
"Yes?"
"I love you too."
He takes as much oxygen as he can into his chest. An indistinct shadow slips across his face.
"Maybe Gaius was right, you know?"
Merlin stared at him, confused.
"About what exactly?"
"That we're just idiots.
"So shall we fix it?"
"With pleasure."
As Arthur approached, he slowly covered his lips in a desperate kiss, feeling the drag hanging over him lift.
Kissing Merlin was even better than Pendragon had imagined. The long period of separation had only made them both hotter.
Now they had hours, weeks, months to get to know each other and their urges.
The waves tickled heels.
"We should get out of here, though. You should change your clothes to attract less attention," Merlin suggested, as the kiss broke off and his now lover reflected that it was probably the strangest thing he'd ever heard after that.
But with his slightly quirky Merlin, it seemed to be a normal thing, and Pendragon liked it that way.
He wandered after him, marveling at his vigor and liveliness.
It must be the spell
But Arthur decided to deal with that later. Now he was facing a completely new world with its strangeness.
But he was sure that he and Merlin would somehow cope with these difficulties.
The two young man walked on.
The water surface of the lake, which was like a huge mirror, was covered with the morning fog. The albino raven flew over the horizon, its red eyes glistening in the light of a small ray of sunshine.