His question rings through my head. Over and over and over. Who are you?

I don't think I can get out of this situation. I don't know how to get around Hogwarts, I don't know anyone here, and I have no way to flee. But mostly, I have nothing to go back to. Even if I could escape, which is plausible because I am more powerful than anyone else here, would it even be worth it? I have no where to go.

Would telling Dumbledore be that bad? He wouldn't be mad that I'm a sorcerer, considering he is one himself. It can't be worse than when I had to tell Arthur. The day I told Arthur. The way I felt when he turned me away. That was one of the worst things I've ever felt. The only thing more damaging to me was when he took his last breath in my arms. I don't know what I would've done if he hadn't finally accepted me. How much more unbearable would these hundreds of years been? I do know one thing though, no matter what, whether or not he accepted me, I would still wait. I would wait for his return. No matter what. I will be waiting as long as it takes. Because Arthur is a good man, I know he is.

Admitting that I'm a sorcerer isn't the issue. The real reason I'm complicating, is if he will try to use my powers for evil. From what I've gathered so far, Dumbledore seems like a good person. Not deceiving, but then again, I've been betrayed too many times.

I will tell him. But at this point I'm pretty sure I'm doing it for my own sanity. Holding it all in, bearing the weight of all the pain, loss, and power has made me so exhausted over the years. Maybe I need to just get it out. With no one to talk to for a thousand years, it gets pretty lonely. I would sometimes talk to Aithusa, after everyone from my life in Camelot and Ealdor were gone, but she could never respond. I loved Aithusa, but it wasn't the same as being able to tell someone. At this point, I just need someone. Someone who knows. I'm so tired of being alone. I have felt so much pain and loss, and it's all bottled up.

Some people want to live forever. They think it would be a blessing, but I know that it's a curse. Seeing everything and everyone who love and ever care about leave you, die. It's the worst thing imaginable. Many see loved ones die, but they probably don't see their home gone, things that are widely practiced, turned into a tale told to children. If I could, I would have been dead long ago. Dead long before Camelot fell. Dead at a normal age, like everyone else. I don't become close to anyone anymore because I know. I know too much about life. I know how much it will hurt when they leave me. The only thing that I hold onto, is that tiny inkling. That little bit of hope, that flickers far beyond. The slimmest chance I can see Arthur again. He's the only reason to hold on.

Sometimes speaking his name hurts, thinking of our days in Camelot, when he pretended to never care about his manservant. Sometimes I hear his laugh or can see his smile and it makes it so much worse again. But then there are those days when seeing, hearing, and saying those things help me. I live for those days. They give me hope. They make me happy. He somehow makes me it okay again. Arthur.

Dumbledore repeats his question again, "Who are you?"

I sigh and take a deep breath. "It's a long story," I tell him.

"Well, good thing I have a long time."

"Most wouldn't believe it."

"Well, we're wizards, I have seen many things. I can believe a lot of things."

"Well then," I shift in my seat. "I was telling the truth part of the time. And I'm not evil or anything. My name is Merlin Emrys. I guess I'll answer any questions you ask."

"Good to know that's your real name. Where are you from?"

"A small town called Ealdor."

"I've never heard of it," Dumbledore says confused. "What is the closest city?"

"Ealdor is gone," I can feel it all hit me again. "It's been gone for a long time now. And the closest city, well it wasn't really a city. It was a kingdom."

"Merlin, kingdoms haven't really excited in such a way you've implied in a very long time."

"Of course they haven't."

"Well what was this kingdom called?"

I haven't said the name out loud in so long. Sometimes I just try to bury every single memory I have of it. I utter the word, "Camelot."

"Camelot?" Dumbledore asks, with his eyebrows raised.

"Camelot," I repeat again.

"Merlin, you are aware-"

I cut him off. "It's not myth. Now professor listen closely, I'm just going to say it at once. It's all true. Camelot is real. I moved there when I was young because I was struggling with controlling my magic. I lived with the physician, Gaius and he taught me all I know about magic. It's all real. Camelot, the Knights of the Round Table, and even," I choke out the last words, "...and even King Arthur," I say solemnly.

"Merlin, how could you possibly live that long?"

"I'm a sorcerer."

"Having magic isn't enough to live over a thousand years."

"Well," I say, "here I am. Greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth, the druids used to say. I'm more powerful than any of you."

"How?"

"The old religion. That's what my magic originates from. It's different from how it is used today. I don't need a wand. Spells are necessary, but wands are useless for me."

"Well, I'm not very sure what to say."

"Don't believe me? Figures," I say nodding my head, feeling tears start swelling up. Why would this ever work? Why would anything turn out okay for me, just one time? I guess I'm doomed to this terrible life. A life that I don't want to live anymore. But I have to. I have to. For him. For Arthur. I swore that I would be by his side until the day I die, or that I would die trying. Well, I'm still alive. And I have to keep that promise. I have to keep that promise to stay by his side.

Dumbledore sighs and then tells me. "There's something about you Merlin. And although you sound like a complete madman, somehow I do believe. Somehow I'm confident that you are telling the truth."

"Really?" I raise my eyes, hope flickering inside me.

"Yes. Some things are too hard too fake. Just look at you. On the verge of crying. No matter how good of an actor you may be, some things are hard to fake. And I've seen the sadness and pain that fills your heart since the day we meet. I've always sensed something."

"That obvious, huh?"

"I suppose," he says consumed with thought. "But then again, I know you are telling the truth. I can tell because whatever you have been through has been clear in your emotions. It always has."

"Thanks. For believing. You're the first person I've told. I guess I could trust you more than most, considering you're a wizard," I tell Dumbledore.

"The real question, I suppose, is what happened? How did it all end? Why do you want to live that long? That would explain why you are still standing here today."

I gulp. Thinking about it all is hard enough, But speaking it, how am I supposed to say those words? The words I have only spoken once before. The words I spoke to my mother, stumbling into Ealdor wondering what I was supposed to do. Wondering how I was going to continue? The words.

Arthur is dead.

"I was Arthur's manservant. I saved his life and Uther, his father and the king, made me his servant. But magic was banned in Camelot, so I was forced to hide it." Thinking about it all and saying it again is so foreign to me. So strange. I begin to feel a tingling in my eye.

"I'm assuming there is a lot more."

"I'll keep it short. Arthur became a good man, a great man, actually the best person I knew. And there was his sister, Morgana and she turned evil and tried to steal the throne. Uther reigned for a long while, but eventually was killed and thus Arthur's reign as king began. He changed so much. Made people who weren't nobles into knights, always cared about the citizens, and was just a great king. Then there was Mordred."

"I've heard of him. In the legends."

"Sure you have. Mordred was a druid boy. But Arthur trusted him. I didn't think it was wise, but then again everything's my fault. Maybe if I had ignored my destiny, it wouldn't have all happened, But Mordred betrayed Arthur, joined Morgana, and at the Battle of Camlann stabbed him, and Arthur killed him in return." The tingling in my eye has gotten worse and worse. I feel a tear slipping down my eye.

"Merlin, you said you were the greatest sorcerer. Why couldn't you save Arthur?"

"Because it was a blade forged by the dragon's blade. Similar to Arthur's sword. Not even I could fix it. Not I, a sorcerer and the last dragonlord. It's because the dragons were older than the Old Religion. Their powers are superior." My eyes become puffy. My voice raises, "And so I took him. To Avalon, he was holding on with his last bit of life. Morgana came and I killed her with Arthur's blade. But I couldn't make it in time. There was no way to save him."

"Merl-," Dumbledore begins, seeing the tears streaming down my face.

"After ten years of saving him again and again. This time there was no way," my voice shakes. "Everything I did, stood by him as his loyal servant and friend, constantly saving his life. None of it mattered. Not that day. Because right beside the Lake of Avalon, I held him in my arms. Helpless, because for once I couldn't save him. And he uttered his last words to me. And there was nothing I could do. I saw the light in his eyes leave, the smile on his face fade, and the life drained out of him." I don't even care that my eyes are bright red with tears. Why should I?

"That day, Kilgharrah, a dragon I knew, told me that when Albion's need was greatest Arthur would rise again. And as sneaky Kilgharrah was, I believed him. I still do. So after a thousand years I'm still here. Still waiting. I will wait as long as it takes. As lonely as it gets. As hard as it gets. I will wait, for Arthur to rise again."

"I'm terribly sorry, Merlin."

"So am I." I lower my head, waiting to escape this room.

"Merlin," Dumbledore sighs and seems to still be thinking about everything I've told him. "I'll speak to you in the morning."

I don't respond. Not with the tears coating my face. My throat feels glued and strained. I get out of his office quickly. And I don't even bother finding my room. I run outside onto the grounds and prop myself up against a tree. It's almost like all those years ago, in forests throughout the five kingdoms.

It's almost like sleeping in the woods going on adventures with Arthur and fighting off magical things. I can almost feel like we are having one of those talks by the campfire.

The smell of fresh air. The rustling of trees. The quiet movements of animals. The gleaming moon and the twinkling stars in the sky. It's all still the same.

Little, old Merlin sitting by a tree. A young face, holding hundreds of years of history and heartbreak and life. The real Merlin, the manservant to Prince Arthur is gone now. I'm not the same person. Neither of us are really here, I suppose.

Arthur is just a ghost now.

And so am I.