Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was one of those months. One of those ‘I hate everything, and I shouldn't be here’ months. They came and went for Arthur, but Merlin was always there to guide him back.

He was words of comfort in Arthur's ear, telling him that everything was alright, that the Earth has grown and changed just as they had. But that wasn't right. Merlin had grown and changed with the Earth and humanity. Arthur hadn't.

Less than a year ago, Arthur dug his way out of loose soil and sand that used to be a lake. He fought with a man on a metal horse that didn't look anything like a horse. He got thrown into present day dungeons, and he discovered the convenience of indoor plumbing despite not being able to communicate with anyone. His jailers even had to bring in someone who spoke his language since no one around did anymore.

That's when Merlin arrived, dressed in clothes Arthur had never seen before. He looked different, but also eerily the same. It had been clear that he changed with the time, but he stayed himself.

Merlin wore a loose blue shirt with a dark brown cover over it and a deep red scarf. His trousers were almost as dark as the cover, and they looked uncomfortable. His hair was slightly more grown out but still not styled. It always looked like he had just rolled out of bed, and Arthur was glad at least that hadn’t changed.

Their eyes met when Arthur’s jailer gestured to him. Merlin hesitated only briefly before time seemed to stop around them. The jailers froze in place and the air stood still. Merlin however, rushed to Arthur's side, embracing him in a crushing hug. How Merlin had gotten through the metal bars, Arthur would forget to ask.

All of Arthur's memories of Camelot rushed into his head. All his memories of the Knights, his father, Morgana, Gwen, and Merlin came flooding into his brain, overwhelming him with emotions of loss, fear, pain, joy, and relief.

Time stood still for the boys as they embraced. They let their breath intermingle, neither one wanting to let go of that sense of home first.

An invisible force nudged at them, and Merlin took a deep breath in, chucking slightly on the exhale and muttering to himself. "Okay okay. I'm sorry. Just— thank you."

Merlin looked at him, relief and hope in his tear-stained eyes. "Don't cause any trouble, okay? I'll get us out of here and we can talk at my place."

Arthur didn't have time to respond as Merlin’s eyes shimmered in gold and Arthur felt a warm wave wash over him. The tear-stained cheeks and swollen eyes that Merlin previously wore vanished almost completely as Merlin returned to his spot just behind the jailers.

Another flash of gold and the air moved, time continued.

"I see magic is legal here." Arthur said with a pointed look at Merlin.

The jailers looked between the two gesturing widely. Merlin calmed them down in whatever language it was that they spoke.

Apparently, it took a lot of convincing and paperwork for Merlin to get him out, but he did eventually. True to his word, Merlin took him to his house, and they talked for hours.

Merlin caught Arthur up on how everyone in Camelot had lived and died, how the world had changed, and started teaching him ‘English’.

For the first few months he had been back, Arthur was paranoid about everything because the prophecy said Arthur would rise again when Avalon needed him most.

Merlin had assured him that he would know if something was wrong. He didn't feel anything or sense anything. The sidhe weren't aware of anything either. So they continued on, taking it day by day, week by week, month by month.

Arthur would constantly wonder why the universe played these jokes on him. Why would he be risen from the dead when everyone else he knew and loved were gone? He didn't know this new place. He didn't understand the way people were now. He didn't want to be here, so why was he?

Arthur didn't belong here.

Merlin melded with the neighbors, offering jokes and small questions and comments about their personal lives. Merlin was happy here. Merlin belonged here.

Arthur told him so one day over dinner, and Merlin stopped everything.

"Arthur, what are you talking about?" He spoke softly in the Old Britannic language Arthur was more comfortable with.

"You just seem happy here is all." Arthur replied, trying not to feel the weight the tension made. "You belong here."

Merlin put his fork down and gave his full attention to him. "That’s not true. These people don't know me like you do. I belong here just as much as you do."

"But I don’t. How could I? I'm not king here. There's no threat. I could walk down the road, and no one would even recognize who I am.” Once he started speaking, it was like everything came out all at once and he was helpless to stop it. “I’m supposed to be the Once and Future King. Avalon is supposed to be in danger. I’m glad that they’re not, but what am I doing here if they don’t need me?”

Arthur stood from the table and started pacing the common room, letting all his frustrations out. “I’m useless here. At least you have magic, I have nothing. No one uses swords anymore. This kingdom is too big for me to rule and even if it wasn’t I wouldn’t know how. I don’t know what a ‘America’ is. I don’t know what a ‘Germany’ is. I barely understand what an ‘England’ is. It’s too much, Merlin. I shouldn’t be here if no one remembers me. I can’t— I don’t—I don’t know what to do!”

Merlin stared at him, silent understanding in his eyes. He gently placed his utensils down and walked to a panting and frustrated Arthur.

“You’re right.” He said calmly.

Arthur looked at him incredulously. “What?”

“You’re right. No one would recognize you in person. You have the anonymity that you’ve always wanted and could never have, but they know who you are Arthur.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. You just said they wouldn’t recognize me.”

Merlin shook his head and grabbed Arthur’s shoulder gently. “No, you’re not listening. They know who you are. They know what you’ve done. They know of Camelot, of Gwen, of you and me. I made sure of that.”

“You… what?”

“I wrote it down. I wrote everything down and let the scholars study it as legends. They still exist today, Arthur. Everyone knows of King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot. I promise.”

“Why? Why would you do that?”

“I— I didn’t want to forget over the years.” Merlin shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts that muddled his brain about the past 1500 years. “I didn’t. I never will. I know that now, but I wasn’t sure back then. The original copies were lost in the Great War, but it doesn’t matter because everyone already knows.”

Arthur looked at the man before him as if seeing him as he did the day he died. The broken, scared, man that wanted nothing more than to reassure him. After everything Merlin had been through, after everything he’d done, and the 1500 years in between, he was still worried only about one thing. Arthur.

“I know why you’re back, Arthur.” He whispered. Silent tears slowly rolled down his cheeks. “It’s because of me.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur questioned. “You brought me back?”

“No. I was…” He breathed out a large wavering breath. “I was going to give up. I was so tired of waiting. The wars had been hard enough. I have no idea what could be worse than them, so I was going to go to the crystal cave and return to magic. I couldn’t be here without you anymore. It had been fifteen hundred years, Arthur. I couldn’t—"

It had been long enough. Merlin needed him now and Arthur wasn’t going to leave him again. Arthur grabbed ahold of Merlin, pulling him into a hug, trying to silently convey everything he wasn’t sure how to put into words.

“Thank you, Merlin of Ealdor.” He whispered into raven hair.

The next few days were better. Arthur tried to reassure Merlin and the former servant smiled genuinely at Arthur trying his best.

Unfortunately, Merlin still had to go to work. Something about archaeologists having to do lab work as well as field work. The words were lost on Arthur, but he pretended to understand. He had other plans anyway.

After Merlin left for the day, Arthur rushed to the computer. He had questions that he couldn’t ask Merlin. There were parts of his life that he didn’t like talking about, even with Arthur, and he would never ask the man to relive his trauma.

A Google tab pulled up as soon as he clicked the button for the internet. He stared at the letters on the keyboard trying to figure out what to look up. Spelling was never his strong suit and spelling in a language he barely knew was even harder.

He settled for a simple ‘Arthur and Merlin’ search. The computer pulled up a lot of purple links. The first one led to a moving picture Merlin called a movie, but it was going too fast for Arthur to understand so he clicked off it and tried another link.

The second purple link was for a ‘Wikipedia’ page that told the basics of who Arthur Pendragon was and how Merlin was a great sorcerer. He was surprised to see how much information was wrong, but he was more surprised to see how much truth withstood the test of time.

The third led to a database of an accumulation of stories about the two of them. Arthur felt as though he had hit the jackpot. This must be the present-day version of a digital library. All of Merlin’s writing had to have been uploaded here.

He clicked on one and started reading. He didn’t remember going on a hunt with Merlin in the Valley of Fallen Kings and stumbling upon the ghost of the Fisher King, but he had done a lot of things in his life. There must have been some things he had forgotten.

The next one he was sure he would have remembered. It was about Arthur finding out the Merlin was Emrys at first. Arthur remembered that day very clearly and this was not how it happened. What followed also definitely didn’t happen.

Of course he’d had relations with some of his knights. Long nights away from the castle, but never like the way these people portrayed Arthur and Merlin. And definitely not with Merlin. Merlin was too… special. He couldn’t risk it with him.

After about thirty different stories of varying lengths, Arthur was engrossed in a one that ended in a very happy way. He was too concentrated on how magic could be used like that that he didn’t hear the door open when Merlin came home for the evening.

He chuckled at the Arthur and Merlin he was reading about and their bedside banter when he felt a presence behind him. Knowing it could only be one person he quickly shut the computer, a flush quickly working it’s way up his neck.

“That’s not suspicious at all.” Merlin said a smile playing at his lips.

Arthur flushed more as he thought about what those lips were just doing in the story. The author was writing about them. Two real people that existed and still existed whether they knew it or not. It was hard not to imagine the real Arthur and the real Merlin doing and saying the same things.

Arthur cleared his throat, forcibly dragging his eyes back to Merlin’s. “What?”

Merlin narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. “What were you doing, Arthur?”

“Nothing. I was just researching the… uh… recipe for dinner.” He replied, standing abruptly and walking to the kitchen.

“Since when do you cook?” Merlin asked.

“Since I wanted to surprise you. But now you ruined it, so you have to make dinner.” Arthur said trying his best at dismissive, not sure if it came across right.

“Mhmm. Okay.” Merlin hummed. He placed his hand on the top of the computer, watching Arthur’s reaction. He didn’t let anything show. Merlin was looking for a reaction, and Arthur knew better than to give him one.

“Did you know that if you shut the computer without closing the tab, as soon as I open it again, it will still be there.” Merlin said slyly.

“Of course I knew that, Merlin.” Arthur said waving his hand.

Mischief danced in his eyes, and Arthur was once again dealing with the similarities of story Merlin and real Merlin. There was a warm feeling of nervousness in his gut, but he didn’t let it show.

“Then you would mind me opening it.” His hand slowly moved to open it.

Arthur said nothing. He wasn’t getting out of this one.

Merlin opened it and spun it around, so it faced him properly. “Oh, you were just reading—” His eyes scanned the page. “Oh.”

Oh.

Arthur heart was pounding in his chest, and he watched Merlin closely. Waiting for any kind of reaction.

Merlin just closed the tab and shut the computer. He walked to the kitchen where Arthur stood trying to read him and pulled a bottle of brown liquid from the very top of the cabinet and poured some in a glass. He downed it immediately before pouring another one that he sipped at.

“Okay.” He said simply.

“Okay?” Arthur parroted. “What do you mean okay?”

“I mean, I get why you were acting cagey.” He downed the rest of his drink and poured one more slightly less full. “First time I read that stuff it was also very awkward, but I also didn’t have you actually here with me.”

“You wrote that?” Arthur asked.

“Wrote it? No. Read it? Yes.” He offered his drink to Arthur who took a large gulp and immediately coughed around it. Merlin chuckled at him. “I wrote the truth and people write their own stories and interpretation of what happened?”

“They just make it up?” He asked. This was his real life. You can’t just make that up.

Merlin got another glass from the cabinet and poured another drink, not bothering to take the first one back from Arthur. “Sometimes. Sometimes they use theories and critical thinking skills to figure out what else was happening that I didn’t write about.”

“But we didn’t—” He gestured to the computer as if that would explain anything. “We never—”

Merlin’s eyes flickered away from him. “No, we didn’t. You did with the knights, but I didn’t write those either.”

“How do you even—?” Arthur was supposed to take those to his grave. His father would have his head if he knew. But they were in the future now, and Uther wasn’t here. Something in Arthur snapped and it felt as though a weight lifted from his shoulders.

“Sit down, Arthur.” Merlin’s words pulled him back to the present conversation and he sat on the couch without thinking.

Merlin grabbed the bottle of whatever they were drinking and brought it with him when he sat next to Arthur, barely a fingers width of distance between their legs.

Merlin’s gaze was distant as he explained. “I wrote everything I could from memory. Most of it was from my point of view. How I felt about everything. What I saw. What I knew. And when that was done, I went to the crystal cave and wrote it all over again from everyone else’s point of view. What I saw happening in their life. What they felt.

“I didn’t write it under my own name, of course, and eventually history picked it up. They are known today as the Arthurian Legends.

“For centuries people have been interpreting King Arthur Pendragon, his wife Guinevere, Merlin the Sorcerer, and everyone else however they wanted. Sometimes that leads to misinterpretation. Sometimes it leads to what could have been. It’s inevitable.”

Merlin shrugged and sipped his drink.

Arthur let the information sink in and nodded to himself. “So you don’t think like that, they just think you do.”

“No, I do, it just took my 1300 years to put a word to it.”

“You do?”

Merin turned to him, giving his full attention to Arthur, needing him to understand. “Of course I do, Arthur. Think of everything we’ve done together, how we’ve acted, how we’ve sacrificed everything for each other over and over again. I just thought it was the prophecy, not me. But then I realized that I am the prophecy.

“What we have goes way past whatever English words exist. We’re two sides of the same coin, we cannot exist without the other. Trust me, I learned that the hard way.”

Arthur swallowed around the knot in his throat and turned away. It was too tense, and he didn’t know what to do. “But the stories?”

Merlin laughed. A full body, doubled over kind of laugh. Arthur laughed with him. Of course this wouldn’t affect them, after everything this would just be a blip on the radar.

Merlin laughed around his explanation, slowly bringing himself back together. “They’re called fanfiction. Most of them are based off of a television series called The Adventures of Merlin that aired on the BBC for a few years. It’s the most accurate of the movies and shows I think.”

“You’ve watched it?” Arther asked, eyes wide.

Merlin sent him a sly grin, and Arthur knew nothing good was about to happen. “I’m in it. I play myself, and I found a man from your linage that looks a lot like you to play you.”

“How did you manage that?”

“A little bit of magic and little bit of boredom. Don’t question my ways.” He stood and walked to a wooden shelf under the small television set they had. “I have them around here somewhere.”

“We have to watch them.”

“Of course, sire.” Merlin said putting the first disc in.

They bickered and argued, adding their own commentary to what actually happened verses what the show said happened. Arthur fumed when the goblin turned fake him into a donkey, yelling that they were never supposed to talk about it again. Merlin just laughed and deflected everything that Arthur threw at him.

Some things were more accurate than he wanted them to be, and if they turned some of those stories into reality then it was no ones business but their own.