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Arthur isn't coming back.
He thought... once, Merlin truly believed... but he's not.
100 years pass. Then 500. Then 1000. 1500, and Merlin doesn't know what it will take.
Plagues and Wars and Tyrants and evils come and go. Merlin does what he can to ensure peace and freedom prevails. Aithusa lived a stunted life and died much sooner than she should have-- thanks to the Sarrum's tortures. She was the very last of her kind.
Only Merlin is left.
He thought... so many times, he thought 'this is it'. This is the moment of Albion's greatest need. For so long, he waited by the bloody lake.
And Arthur never came back.
He is done waiting.
Merlin is lonely, he's tired of life. There's only one thing which can end him, and it's in Avalon with the man he...
The man he loves.
Merlin always created his own destiny, after all. Morgana turned evil, and that was his fault. Mordred killed Arthur, that was his fault too.
Why should now be any different?
It doesn't take much. Magic has been all but drained from this world; replaced by modern conveniences. Now anyone can perform small feats of 'magic', with only a flip of a switch.
So few even believe in its existence anymore. It isn't outlawed, it's just... extinct.
But that just means there is no one who can stop him. No one who knows of magic, no one who can match his power. Bullets do nothing, they freeze around him. His eyes blaze gold, and the leaders of the world learn to walk on their knees for him.
He doesn't make the average people suffer; he doesn't want that. He punishes the greedy, the rich, those who take and take and let the world around them become poor and miserable. He takes charge of everything, sets in place a system where all are equal to each other, but not to him. He becomes an Emperor of Mankind. There is no more hunger, no sickness, no homelessness. The people do not suffer, but they fear him, as they should.
He makes it known that he cannot be stopped, that only a sword forged in Dragon's breath can end his life. Long ago he (foolishly) destroyed all of them-- all but Excalibur, which is beyond even his reach. There are no dragons left in this world to forge another like it.
It take years, but he brings the world to it's knees. Many try to kill him, none succeed.
And even then, Arthur does not come.
He screams, rages at the sky. Demands that Destiny brings Arthur back to him. As always, there is no answer.
Depression sets in, then. Because what is the point of any of this is Arthur does not come back? Was it all a false hope? Has he not done enough? Will he never be free of this accursed life? Is he doomed to forever wish for a death he can never attain?
How can this not be Albion's greatest hour of need?
When it all seems useless, lost... Merlin goes back to the Lake.
He kneels down by the waters of Avalon, head bowed and hands made into fists.
"Arthur," he whispers, not knowing if the man can hear him, if he ever will hear him. He has waited so long, and yet he has never stooped to begging, not yet. "Please, Arthur. I need you."
Nothing happens.
Merlin weeps, bowing his head until it touches the damp, gravel ground by the lake.
He spends an hour like that, doing nothing but sobbing, hearing nothing but the sounds of his own gasping breaths.
Then a hand touches his shoulder. He jerks upright, hands ready to guide his magic, red-rimmed eyes ablaze with gold.
He nearly throws the person halfway across the country out of instinct. But he stops, because he knows those eyes.
"Merlin."
He knows that voice.
"- Arthur," he chokes out, fresh tears swimming in his eyes, blurring his vision.
This can't be real.
"Is it really you?" He asks, because he must know. He has to know.
Arthur is dripping, his armor glistening in the starlight. His cape is soaked, the bright Pendragon red turned dark with lake water. He's kneeling in front of Merlin, as beautiful as the last day Merlin saw him. Excalibur is held tight in his right hand.
"As ever," the King responds, moving his hand up from Merlin's shoulder to his cheek. His fingers are as damp as Merlin's face. "What did I tell you, Merlin. I don't want you to change. I want you... to always be you." A wet thumb pointlessly brushes tears from his cheek, just streaking the water across his face. "You never do as you're told, do you?"
A choked, miserable, broken laugh leaves Merlin's chest. "Never, sire." His own hand comes up, trembling as he dares to touch Arthur in return. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," Arthur tells him, sadness coloring his voice. "Destiny has been cruel to us. You have waited for so long with so little guidance."
"How long can you stay?"
"Not long," Arthur tells him gently. "But long enough to take you to Avalon with me."
Merlin nods, understanding what Arthur means.
It's what he wished for, but the suddenness of Arthur running him through still comes as a surprise.
Merlin feels the blade slide between his ribs. He hears the shlick of metal going through flesh. He sees the tears in Arthur's eyes. He doesn't do a thing to stop it.
A quiet gasp leaves him, just a puff of air punched from his lungs.
He holds onto Arthur, holding his gaze as he finally feels the life drain from his body. So, so long overdue.
"... Will I be by your side?"
"Always," Arthur promises, a tear sliding down his cheek. "Always, Merlin."
"Then... I am glad," Merlin tells him, tears still running down his cheeks. "Thank... you." Words are harder to say with blood filling his lungs.
Arthur pulls out his sword, drops it by his side. He holds Merlin close, not willing to leave him now. "I only wish you hadn't been alone for all this time, my friend."
Merlin closes his eyes, pain making him ache. He feels weak, his grasp on life is slipping.
He forces his eyes back open, determined to drink in the sight of Arthur for every second until his last breath. "At least... at...least... I'm... not alone... now..."
His breathing is labored, his lips turning bloody as his wound kills him further.
"Shh," Arthur hushes him, tears falling freely now. "You needn't say anything more. I know. Rest, Merlin. You have watched over Albion for so long. Your time is finally done."
"Waiting... for... you..." each word is an impossible effort.
"I'm here," Arthur tells him, voice cracking. "I'm here, it's alright. We'll go to Avalon together, my friend."
Arthur touches his face, swiping away his tears and holding him tight, keeping Merlin secure in his arms.
Merlin tries to smile, but it's a bloody, messy thing, more like a grimace of pain.
He's going. There are black spots in his vision, and he can see the gates of Avalon in the sky.
He can't go yet, not until he's said what he needs to say, the only secret he hasn't told Arthur yet.
"I..." his breath hitches, blood bubbles under his lips. He uses what strength is left in his arm to lift his hand and touch his fingertips to Arthur's cheek. They leave red, bloody smears in their wake. "I... love... you... Ar... thur..."
His hand shakes, trembles with his dying strength. He isn’t much longer for this world.
Arthur sobs, or maybe he laughs, but his expression is broken. "And I you, Merlin. And I you."
Lips press to his, and Merlin dies happy. His life is finally and truly complete.
Arthur is left holding his cooling corpse, sobbing on the bank of Avalon Lake, until the other world claims them both.
Magic pulls them both away, their bodies fading into nothing but light. Merlin's magic returns to the Earth itself, and Arthur returns to Avalon, carrying Merlin in his arms.
All that's left behind is a sword, which on one side says 'take me up' and on the other says 'cast me away'. It lies at the bottom of the lake, forgotten and never to be found again.
And thus ends the Legend of Emrys and the Once and Future King, thus ends the story of Albion and the time of Dragons and Magic.
For Albion's moment of greatest need was no Fantastical Quest or Daring Adventure. It won't be written down in the history books. It's not a story that will be told of in songs or legends.
It was a good man and a kind soul, driven to madness by time and isolation. It was the moment when he cried out for help, for mercy, and an old friend gave him the one gift he could not obtain himself.
Immortality is not a blessing, it's a curse, and Arthur returned to break that curse, to free Merlin from it when he could no longer withstand the cruelty of life.
And Avalon welcomed them into the gates, to finally rest. To be at peace.
In Death, they found the happiness that Life denied them. In Death, they were reunited, and spent the rest of eternity with each other, as they always should have been.
Fin.