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Chapter Text

Arthur died.

He failed.

His paranoia and fear controlled his every action. Perhaps if he trusted Arthur more, if he questioned Mordret's fate, he could've prevented it.

But no. He did not.

Coward.

Aithusa curled up against him in mourning and comfort. The poor child lost her loved one as well. His fault, that one.

He would not fail her again. He'll protect her and fight for her.

Merlin returned to Camelot with Aithusa to find not much changing.

Magic remained outlawed, declared too deceitful and unknown by those whom cowered in fear of what they couldn't conquer by sheer force.

Gwen suggested he relocate to the highest tower, a forgotten place. Where the small dragon could sleep undeterred. Not interacting with outsiders, as to not reveal his true self. But still assisting with any matter that needed his attention. The knights agreed with her claim. To protect him.

He cried that night, mourning his friend, his king, what might've been if he were not as afraid. Perhaps if he took that risk, Camelot would have grown into more.

Perhaps, but no more.

Humans feared what they could not understand, or control. Magic had no home in Camelot. And it sensed that. Druids migrated across the seas, seeking a new home for themselves. Knowing Albion would never accept them again as it once did. The few remaining sorcerers didn't bother plaguing the lands in vengeance, or, mourning.

The dragon left to die peacefully somewhere far away, leaving Merlin alone. But he did not care for it.

He stayed.

Merlin stayed by Gwen's side till she died of old age. Wishing her happiness in her Afterlife.

He stayed to guide her children from the shadows. The memory of a certain prat ached more profusely during that time.

He stayed as he watched his friends married, became parents and grew old. Gwaine fathered two lovely girls, naming Merlin the godfather.

He stayed by their side as their drew their last breath.

He stayed as he witnessed his mother withering away.

He stayed as Gaius got too old to stand, passing away silently in his sleep.

Whilst he remained the same.

Not aging, no marriage, no children.

How could he bare to watch his wife grow old without him? Too cruel, for both of them.

He stayed till Camelot fell. And after, he had nowhere to be. So he stayed, left behind. Forgotten.

Not once straying far from his tower.

Years passed.

Aithusa refused to wake up. Before the old dragon departed, he explained that the girl needed rest to heal. And she would awoken when she felt ready.

Merlin remained unmoving, too lost in his grief to notice time slipping by.

His little room gathered dust, spiders and other critters made themselves at home, the tiny dragon sleeping in his bed, still healing.

He didn't care. Not about the stench, not about the mess, not anything.

He lost.

He sacrificed everything, his very being. For a promised future. One where hiding would be unnecessary, where he could be free. But that promise was broken. He broke it. He did.

Now he had nothing.

He questioned if Aithusa would even bother waking to this wretched world.

Agonized by long forgotten hunger, his stomach lost its strength to growl. His appetite had long faded. The very thought of eating, tasting something other than air dust discusted him to no end. How dare he entertain the thought of a meal, when those he should've protected had long since parished?

How could he be so selfish? ... How?

The faces of his loved blurred, an impenetrable fog hid them from him. A dull numbness settled deep in his bones.

Numb to the overwhelming feeling of loss, Merlin indulged in chastising himself every so often. 

Perhaps isolation wasn't a good place for his self hatred to stew, but what difference would it make?

Why bother innocent people with problems that he brought upon himself?

Over time, his senses dulled. His will crumbled. And he stopped mourning.

A young prince found him lounging by the window broken and refusing to heal, staring blankly at the sky.

He did not show any indication of noticing the new presence. The prince gently caressed him away from the window, allowing him to fully observe the man.

The prince kept speaking but Merlin could barely comprehend the words. It was all just noise to him. Of course, this hadn't bothered him before but something about this man felt different.

Alive. Free.

Unchaned.

He found himself wanting to understand, to know what was being said. He tried. Oh, how he tried to, but nothing came of his efforts.

Was it really hopeless? Did he finally shatter completely?

Why?

Why now?

A single tear streamed down his face.

Huh.

Would the world really be so cruel?

A sudden burning sensation engulfed his ears and eyes. A broken scream tore from his aching throat. When the sensation subsided, he almost fell head first off the chair when warm arms caught him, steadying him.

How long had it been since he had physical contact with somebody?

Somehow managing the will power, Merlin glanced up at his visitor.

Tall, white haired, lean, but toned. And he had deep grey eyes, too deep. One could drown in them forever ever. And his ears were pointed.

There was something else. Merlin could preceive him. How? The tall man smiled.

"Is that better?"

He could hear him? It clicked. Magic. This man had used magic. Did magic return whilst he was wallowing in his self loathing?

Merlin merely nodded in response to the man's earlier question.

"I am Eirlys Ahyan, Crown Prince of Ayaru." The man introduced. The man–Eirlys tilted his head slightly —before nodding to himself?—a small smile tugged at his lips.

"Do you perhaps know what a True Immortal is?" He inquired. Merlin shook his head.

This prince shared his story, explaining about his long live span, calling himself a True Immortal and claiming Merlin the same. Merlin felt perplexed. He was not the only one? There were other beings similar to him?

Why had no one told him? Could his life have been different if he grew along his kind? Perhaps not. These True Immortals kept to themselves, apparently.

"What do they call you, friend?" Eirlys implored. The warlock contemplated his answer. Should he lie, or tell him it's Emrys? But why did he need to do that? Camelot was gone. There were none to remember him and fear his name. He doubted this prince would fear him, even if he knew. No, Eirlys deserved honesty.

"...Mer...Merlin.." He rasped barely above a whisper, his throat aching and sore from all the neglect. His name, being given to him by his mother was one thing he refused to forget.

Fortunately, Eirlys heard him just alright. But to ease the pain, the prince spoke to him mind to mind. Merlin was pleasantly surprised that Eirlys possessed this talent, until he realized why he utilized it now.

The prince sat next to him, waiting patiently, as if he had all the time in the world, he probably did. Merlin stalled for what seemed to be hours before he hesitantly began speaking.

And when he began, the words would not cease to stop. His deepest, darkest fears and thoughts came pouring out with no chance of reprieve. Tears flowed freely as he recounted a past he was sure he'd buried as deep as the ocean floor. He'd been wrong. He only felt numb temporarily. A truly horrifying discovery.

Of course, he remembered little of his actual history and more of the pain he endured.

The prince kept silent as he listened, not interrupting, not judging. But simply listening.

How Merlin had longed for someone anyone to just listen. It felt liberating. When he finally finished his story, Eirlys stood tall ... and outstretched his hand.

"Truly, a fascinating tale. Your devotion knows no bounds." He acknowledged. Merlin was confused about the placement of his hand, did the prince want him to take it?

Eirlys remained unfazed by his lack of response and continued.

"Devote yourself to me instead."

Merlin blinked.

What?

Eirlys' grin stretched across his face, very widely. Many would think it disturbing, but Merlin had long forgotten what normal appeared to be.

"Your boy king has long passed, Camelot has fallen. Why obey a forgotten destiny, when you could obey me." 

Merlin stared. Because, he was right. There were no Camelot to return too. He barely remembered their appearance, much less their voice. Why must he be left behind? He swallowed hard.

Staring at the still waiting hand, he came to a decision at that moment. He will choose for himself, the life he wants to live.

"I am yours to command."

The warlock gathered all will power to command his own hand. When his fingers locked with Eirlys', he felt the threads of the magic binding weaving itself together.

Proclaiming Merlin as prince Eirlys' devoted servant. A binding contract so in depth, only an explicit verbal acceptance between both parties could sever it.

Merlin chose this, there was no turning back. He glanced at Aithusa, silently vowing to prepare a safer future for her. Be the guardian she deserved.

Leaving his hollowed self behind, he finally found solace. 

Chapter Text

The first thing Arthur noticed as he reached consciousness was the soft ground beneath him. The second being the warmth of sunlight he felt as he opened his eyes. The third, of course, he was currently laying outside in a forest with other people—if the noise of them waking up was anything to go by—his people.

Thankfully.

Arthur groaned when he finally sat up. His eyes narrowed as they searched. His knights were here, Guinevere awoke next to him and another figure, shrouded in a cloak sat father away from the group.

"Guinevere, are you hurt?" Looking after his queen took priority over all else.

"Of course." She smiled reassuringly.

Knowing she spoke truth, Arthur turned his attention to his men. Scanning their bodies for injuries, his shoulders unintentionally relaxed when he found none.

"Sire, are you alright?" Sir Leon inquired, having already stood. The king gratefully took his offered hand to help him stand and nodded. Sir Elyan moved to help his sister.

All Arthur's men were accounted for, seemingly unharmed. Relieved, Arthur observed the surrounding forest.

The trees seemingly reached the skies. The colors blended spectacularly together, vibrant and impossible to ignore, glowing with unseen life. The grounds decorated with outgrown roots, wildflowers and fallen leaves.

Moss covered certain corners like a soft green blanket, indicating that it rained frequently.

Small birds flew overhead, unafraid of their natural predators, singing sweetly. They were evidently dancing with the wind, sunlight filtered through a vibrant green canopy.

The entirety of the forest hummed with life.

This place felt more lively than anything he'd ever encountered, the wind a gentle breeze. The sky felt joyful, contented, somehow. Even the spot where Arthur woke remained undisturbed.

This forest was not fimilar to him.

Oddly, he felt as though he were an unwelcomed guest, interrupting the tranquility of it all. An outsider.

But something else bothered him more.

Something felt wrong.

What could it be?

Sir Gwaine suddenly spoke up.

"Merlin appears to be missing."

Ah.

Now he knew.

Arthur realized that, yes, Merlin was not among them. His man-servant had not strayed too far from him since his employment for too long. Now Arthur worried.

Had something happened to Merlin?

"I hope Merlin is safe. I worry something terrible has happened to him." Guinevere muttered, softly.

"If anyone could thrive in a place such as this, it would be Merlin. After all, he serves the king." Leon quickly interjected, perhaps not wanting to upset his queen with unnecessary stress.

But his words did little to dispel his own concern. Merlin did follow him into perilous danger countless times over the course that he'd known him. No other servant was that eager to stay by their Master's side. Arthur did call him a fool on several occasions, but truthfully his loyalty brought certain warmth to his heart.

Though, Arthur could hardly say he knew much about his servant. The boy rarely spoke of his own life. Arthur probably would not have known about Merlin's mother if the woman hadn't come to Camelot begging for help.

The one who knew Merlin best was perhaps Gwaine. They spent most of their free time together. Arthur was no fool, he understood that the man only stayed in Camelot because of Merlin. If Merlin left, Gwaine wouldn't be far behind.

Same with Lancelot, before he died. That man dreamt of becoming a knight his whole life, but he would've abandoned his dreams if Merlin so wished. Perhaps Arthur should be furious that his some of his knights valued his servant more than him, but he was honestly more glad the boy had people in his corner.

But Arthur could not afford to be unfocused during this time. Whilst Merlin's safety was a cause for concern, his priority should be figuring out how they appeared here.

His eyes landed on the unfamiliar figure, separated from the rest of them. Perhaps they knew more of the situation. Arthur cleared his throat.

"You there, do you perhaps know what happened to us?" The others turned their attention to the stranger.

Said stranger slowly turned around, removing their hood. Gasps filled the air. All knights drew their swords, moving to a defensive position. Arthur stood infront of Guinevere, shielding her with all he had.

Standing infront of them, was Morgana. Looking utterly disheveled. She cracked a conniving smile.

"What an unexpected reunion, brother."