Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue, The Hope Paradoxon

Whenever the world began to deteriorate, Merlin grew hopeful. Staying carefully neutral had become his only mission in life— if one could call his existence life.

The problem was simply this; Arthur would return when Albion needed him most, and Merlin could not bear the thought of doing good and potentially preventing this from happening. Unfortunately, he was a good and kind person by nature, therefore going out of his way to do evil, to make Albion need Arthur, was also out of the question. Stalemate. Not that he hadn’t considered it, but the thought alone that when Arthur did return it would be only to fight him was unbearable. And so, he waited.

Every few years Merlin would move to one of the four houses around lake Avalon he had acquired over the years, reintroducing himself as an estranged nephew or brother of the previous owner who had died. His entire existence was a conundrum at odds with itself; the neighbors always thought he was nice but weird. He kept up with the news but didn’t vote. His house appeared to be of the warm and welcoming sort but he never had any visitors. He never turned his neighbors away when they needed something but he never accepted their invitations either.

Life dragged him along, until one rainy Tuesday night when the rope around his neck suddenly and unexpectedly came loose as he was watching the telly of all things. He’d expected to find Arthur by the lake, in the woods, when he knocked on his door, but fate apparently still liked to make fun of him, because there he was on his flickering telly screen, regal posture as always, standing next to his father of all people. Time slowed, and picked up again, a tidal wave withdrawing before it crashed and washed him away. But when the ringing in his ears subsided he still sat in his living room, wearing his favorite pajamas, hair wet and messy from the shower he’d taken earlier. And there, on the screen, was Arthur. His Arthur. For the first time in several thousand years, Merlin was fully awake.

Pendragon Law Firm is set to return to the UK and open a second basis after years of making a name for themselves in the states. If the rumors are to be believed, Uther Pendragon will pass his position at the US headquarters to CEO Morgana Carlisle for the time being while he accompanies his son Arthur Pendragon to the UK to support the London Headquarters until they are fully established. As industry insiders may know, Pendragon and Partners was founded several generations ago in Manchester by the Pendragon family, though back then it was known as Knights and Company. After personal tragedy struck, the family decided to relocate and rebrand which quickly paid off under Uther Pendragon's single minded focus. Little is known about his son Arthur and Pendragon’s decision to entrust the boy with his own firm rather than interviewing possible candidates for the position has been met with some criticism — but if it will pay off remains to be seen.

The rain outside drummed steadily against the windows of Merlin's modest home, adding to the surreal atmosphere inside. The flickering light from the television cast a soft glow, illuminating Merlin's stunned face. His heart pounded in his chest as he replayed the news segment in his mind. Arthur Pendragon—alive, here, and seemingly unknowing of his past. The shock was immense, but an undercurrent of joy surged through him strong enough he wouldn’t be surprised to find his fingertips sparking with pure electricity.

Merlin took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to steady his nerves. He didn’t bother to switch off the television, as he scrambled to find his laptop. Every now and again he’d look up at the screen, Arthur now a blurry dot behind the newscaster but so much realer than he’d been just minutes ago. He couldn't afford to waste time; he had to reach Arthur before anyone else did, before memories of a past life overwhelmed him— before the reason he had been resurrected, whatever it was, caught up to him. Merlin had prepared of course, for every possible scenario, he’d had little other to do after all. Still, he cursed fate and himself for only finding him now when he’d been out there for a few years already. All the Google Alerts and constant searches for Arthur’s name, the knights, Camelot, Excalibur, none of them had done their job. Again, fate proved to him it could not be tricked, nothing would happen until it was supposed to.

Mind racing he dashed to his small study, picking up things he intended to pack and throwing them on the couch as he went. The room was cluttered with ancient tomes, magical artifacts, and modern paraphernalia—an odd blend of the old world and the new. He opened a drawer and retrieved a worn leather-bound book. It was his journal, a chronicle of his long and lonely wait for Arthur's return. Inside were notes, theories, and prophecies about Albion's future. He flipped through the pages giddily, more familiar with them than his own face.

A passage caught his eye: "In the time of greatest need, when Albion's future hangs by a thread, the Once and Future King shall rise again, not as he was, but anew." Merlin's breath caught. The prophecy was vague, as they always were, but it seemed to indicate that Arthur would not simply return as a warrior king. He would come back as something—or someone—different, perhaps even someone not destined for the battlefield. A lawyer, of all things. It made sense, in a way. In this world, the battlefields were often courtrooms, and the sword was the law.

Or perhaps his personality would return when his memories did? Perhaps he’d become someone else entirely? The sheer number of possibilities overwhelmed him even in the face of familiar words, their meaning suddenly warped. With shaking hands he scrawled a single line on the last page before returning to his laptop to buy a one way ticket to the US. He would not wait another six months, he’d waited long enough.

The King has returned; Long live the King

He hurried to his bedroom closet, pulling out a slightly worn suitcase. Unlike the methodical preparation he usually employed for trips, this time he had haphazardly thrown together his belongings. Clothes were crumpled, barely folded; essentials were tossed in without much thought. He hadn't even bothered to check if the suitcase met airline regulations. All that mattered was getting to Arthur as quickly as possible.

As he zipped up the case, Merlin's mind raced. He imagined Arthur's confusion, the flashes of another life intruding on his modern existence. A pang of worry struck him—would the memories be kind, or would they bring back the pain of a life filled with war and betrayal? Shaking his head, Merlin grabbed his passport and phone, stuffing them into his pocket.

A cab ride and a hurried airport check-in later, Merlin found himself on a flight bound for New York. The hours seemed to drag on interminably. Every bump and jostle of the plane felt like an obstacle keeping him from his goal. He fidgeted in his seat, tapping his foot impatiently and barely managed to catch a few precious hours of sleep. His suitcase, with its chaotic contents, rested in the overhead compartment—a physical manifestation of his frantic need to see Arthur.

As the plane descended, Merlin felt a mix of excitement and anxiety, the Manhattan skyline greeted him with a promising twinkle as it descended. He had always preferred quieter places, but the anonymity of the city suited his purpose. Arthur. He’d see Arthur again.

He’d barely made it out of the airport when his phone buzzed in his pocket. A google alert flashed on the screen: Pendragon Law Firm Announces Public Address: Arthur Pendragon to Speak Tomorrow Evening.

Merlin's heart leaped, though a part of him scoffed at the notion that now the stupid alert system was working. It was a chance, perhaps the only one, to see Arthur up close and gauge his state of mind. More importantly, it gave him a more concrete starting point for his search than just ‘somewhere in New York’. He had to be there.

Having spent the night on the plain left him groggy but that was nothing some caffeine couldn’t fix. Another cab ride and he found himself in a hotel lobby as liminally timeless as the airport had been, lucky for him their breakfast buffet was still open. So over a large plate of fried eggs on toast and an even larger cup of coffee, he continued his research. Tapping away on his laptop in a manner not unlike the traveling business men a few tables over, just a tad more unhinged maybe, he looked up every accommodation, restaurant and pub near the place where the public address would be held. Silently he wished New York wasn’t so bloody enormous.

Chapter Text

Chapter 1, A Second First Meeting

New York City, The King's Arms Pub

It was early afternoon, and the dimly lit King's Arms pub buzzed with the chatter of patrons enjoying a midday drink. Arthur Pendragon sat at a table near the center of the room, surrounded by colleagues from Pendragon Law Firm. The atmosphere was relaxed yet lively, a far cry from the somber boardrooms they were accustomed to. Arthur, looking sharp in a tailored suit, was holding court, recounting the firm's latest triumphs with a charming, almost regal air. Nothing in the world could have prepared Merlin for hearing his voice again. He would have sworn he remembered it, but hearing it was different— better. Like sunshine compared to artificial light.

"You should've seen the judge's face," Arthur said, a confident smirk on his lips. "He didn't know what hit him when we presented that final piece of evidence. It was game over." His colleagues laughed appreciatively, clearly admiring his prowess. Arthur leaned back, basking in the admiration. It was then that Merlin noticed the glint in Arthur's eyes, a mischievous sparkle he remembered all too well. The same one he'd seen countless times in Camelot. For a split second, he was home.

Merlin, who had been discretely observing from a nearby booth, was being crushed by his nostalgia. There he was, the Once and Future King, as confident and charismatic as ever, completely unaware of the legacy he carried. Merlin had spent centuries waiting for this moment, yet now that it was here, he found himself unsure of how to approach Arthur without sounding like a lunatic.

As Arthur continued to boast about another legal victory, Merlin felt a surge of frustration. He couldn't just sit here and let Arthur's ego inflate without at least trying to jog his memory. Unable to resist, Merlin stepped forward.

"Impressive stories," Merlin said, his voice cutting through the noise. "Though, you should know, not all heroes need to be the loudest in the room."

Arthur's head turned sharply, his piercing blue eyes locking onto Merlin's. For a brief moment, confusion flickered across his face, followed by a glimmer of something else—recognition, perhaps.

"Do I know you?" Arthur asked, leaning forward slightly, his tone both intrigued and dismissive.

Merlin felt a twinge of hope. "I doubt it," he replied with a small, knowing smile, even though the words burned in his throat. "But I know you, Arthur. More than you think."

The pub grew quieter as the surrounding patrons sensed the tension. Arthur frowned, his eyes narrowing.

"That's funny. I usually remember people who know me so well," he said, his voice tinged with suspicion and curiosity. "Where do you know me from?"

Merlin hesitated, the weight of centuries of waiting pressing down on him. How could he possibly explain in front of all these people?

"Let's just say, we've... met before," he said, choosing his words carefully. "In another time, another place." Instantly Merlin began berating himself in his mind, all the times he’d imagined seeing Arthur again, they’d always been alone in his imagination. Oh, now he has to trust you, that wasn’t cryptic at all. Well done Emrys. In his daydreams, Arthur always remembered him rather quickly, but this wasn’t a dream and he’d do well to remember that.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but also wary. "Is that so? I’d ask if I’ve slept with you but you’re not really my type—“ Merlin choked on nothing the second the words left Arthur’s mouth.

He didn’t get a chance to regain his composure before Arthur added, “and judging by your clothes I think you’re confusing me with someone from a lower tax bracket.” Right, he was kind of an ass. I almost forgot.

"Oh please, now you’re just being rude," Merlin replied, trying to keep his tone light. The onlookers began whispering among themselves, sensing the odd exchange. Arthurs eyebrows rose into his hairline and a smirk tugged on Merlin’s lips. God, he’d missed irritating him. “I’d never sleep with someone who acts like such an ass.”

”You claim to know me, then how come you don’t know that you can’t talk to me like that?”

”Don’t you have ears? Clearly I can.”

”Bold of you to bring ears into the discussion. Security?”

Ah crap. Just like that the conversation was over as two large men in black suits approached Merlin. As they grabbed his arms, he felt a pang of regret but also a strange satisfaction. This first encounter, as messy as it was, hadn't been entirely unsuccessful. Even if Arthur didn’t remember him, there was no doubt that this was indeed Arthur.

***

The crowd gathered outside the conference venue, buzzing with anticipation. Security was tight, and people were filing in for the big announcement. Merlin, undeterred by his earlier rejection, stood near the entrance, hoping for another chance to speak with Arthur. His heart sank as he spotted Arthur approaching, flanked by his entourage. There were only so many times he could initiate conversation before he’d be met with a restraining order or something of the sort, and if Arthur was always surrounded by his lackeys that would prove difficult.

Just as Arthur was about to enter, he caught sight of Merlin standing at the edge of the crowd. For a moment, their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them. Arthur hesitated, then, much to Merlin's surprise, he motioned for the guards to let him through.

"There is something about you, Merlin," Arthur said in passing, his voice low and thoughtful. "I don't know what it is, but... I feel like I should."

Merlin smiled, relief washing over him. "Maybe you're right," he said softly. "Maybe you should."

Arthur nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Moments later, the crowd of admirers had swallowed him again.
This time, things would be different. They had to be.

The conference room was packed with reporters, lawyers, and curious onlookers. Arthur Pendragon stepped onto the stage, flanked by his father, Uther, and several high-ranking members of the Pendragon Law Firm. The grand ballroom of the hotel was filled with influential figures, journalists, and curious onlookers eager to hear the Pendragons' big announcement. Cameras flashed, and murmurs filled the air as Arthur approached the podium, his confident demeanor commanding the attention of the entire room.

Merlin stood at the very front, he had no reason to hide. Quite the contrary, he wanted Arthur to look at him, to remember. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the scene. It was a far cry from the halls of Camelot, yet in a way, it was fitting. This modern court was where Arthur would make his stand, whatever that might mean. He had the same regal bearing, the same kind eyes. For a moment, Merlin felt a pang of nostalgia and longing. But then, Arthur began to speak. He spoke of the firm's accomplishments, their plans for expansion in the UK, and his vision for the future. As he spoke, a growing sense of unease began gnawing at Merlin. The uncanny familiarity of the scene was getting to him, he scanned the room again and again.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Arthur's voice was steady, confident. "Thank you for being here today. As you know, my family has a long history in the legal field, and it's an honor to continue that legacy. Our mission remains the same: to uphold justice, fight for the truth, and protect those who cannot protect themselves."

Merlin's breath caught. The words were different, but the essence was the same. The ideals of justice and protection had always been at Arthur's core. As Arthur continued, speaking about the firm's goals and their plans for the future, Merlin could see glimpses of the old Arthur shining through.

Then, it happened. Arthur paused, a brief flicker of confusion crossing his face. His hand went to his temple, as if trying to ward off a headache. Merlin's heart raced. Was he remembering? Was the veil of this new life lifting, even just a little? Look at me, he thought frantically, eyes fixed on Arthur as if no one else existed, Just look at me, and remember.

Arthur blinked, shook his head slightly, and continued with his speech as if nothing had happened. But Merlin knew better. The floodgates had opened, and the memories, however faint, were beginning to trickle through.

Just as Arthur was hitting his stride, a sudden movement in the crowd caught Merlin's eye. A figure near the back of the room pulled out a gun, and in an instant, everything seemed to slow down. Merlin felt the familiar surge of magic rise within him, and with a subtle flick of his wrist, he slowed the bullet that had been fired. The bullet, moving at a fraction of its original speed, gave Merlin just enough time to act.

Without thinking, Merlin lunged forward, tackling Arthur to the ground as the bullet whizzed past them, embedding itself harmlessly in the wall. Chaos erupted as screams filled the room, and security personnel rushed in, tackling the would-be assassin and securing the area. Uther, pale with shock, stood frozen on the stage, his eyes wide as he stared at the scene unfolding before him.

Arthur, shaken but unharmed, looked up at Merlin with a mixture of confusion and awe. "How did you—?" he began, but Merlin quickly cut him off.

"Not here," Merlin whispered urgently, pulling Arthur to his feet, silently thrilling at the simple touch. "We need to talk, but not here."

Uther, finally regaining his composure, stepped forward. "Arthur, are you alright?" he demanded, his voice laced with concern and authority.

Arthur nodded, still trying to process what had just happened. "I'm fine, thanks to... him," he said, gesturing towards Merlin. Several hundred years of loneliness fell off his shoulders the second Arthurs eye’s met his again, this time with a tentative smile.

The following questioning by the police he was subjected to was an ordeal of several hours, but nothing could ruin his mood. Sleep deprived and exhausted as he was, he hadn’t been this happy in centuries and no stupid city cop could change that. When the police was finally done with him, he was delighted to find that Arthur had waited for them to finish questioning him. He was decidedly less delighted to find out that so had Uther, but he was well trained in ignoring the man so he shrugged it off. Though it did make him wonder who else might be back.

All these years he’d assumed it would just be Arthur and him. Now he was beginning to see that may have been a catastrophic oversight on his part. Morgana was back too, he’d heard her name on the news. What if Mordred was as well? Agravaine? Or Gwen and Gaius and the knights? God, he was getting dizzy again, suddenly wishing he’d slept more on the plane after all.