It had been such an innocent day. The sun rose and with it did Merlin, getting prepared for another day of serving the royal prat. To be fair, Arthur wasn't all that terrible to work for (usually), but it could be a pain – especially considering the hour Merlin woke up at, just to be on time.

So the day continued with bringing meals, cleaning rooms, polishing armour, teasing Arthur, picking herbs for Gaius, all the usual things that made up the warlock's day. Of course, magic was always helpful to finish everything quickly.

The evening was much more pleasant than his usual routine; Merlin, Arthur, as well as Percival and Leon – with a few other knights – had gone down to the tavern together. What harm was a little gambling? Arthur's ego took quite a blow after losing everything to the – cheating – warlock (but didn't he deserve to have a little fun?) while said warlock was enjoying the faces that his king was pulling after every lost round. How could everything have gone so wrong?

Never in a million years did Merlin expect to return to the safety of the place he called home and have a giant black blob jump at his face. Nor did he think that the black slug – which he would later find out with Gaius' help was an Eancanah– would take away his magic.

What good was he without the one thing he loved so dearly? The one thing of his being that made him Merlin, which defined him in his own eyes. He was just a useless servant, another face in the crowd without the magic that he was so proud of. Emrys was just an empty title now; he was no warlock. Just an empty shell of what he used to be.

What use was he to Arthur?

The morning was bright, the sun a blinding gold, bathing the earth in its light, the sky a vibrant blue. It was mocking him. The very universe was mocking Merlin, mocking him for everything he lost. And it only got worse as the day wore on.

When the injured began swarming into the citadel, Merlin could only look hopelessly at the people who had survived the attack. He could have helped, he could have taken away their pain easily, he could help get rid of Morgana if he still had his magic. Gaius had done his best, trying to convince the boy-turned-man that he was still useful, that he still had the skills of a physician, but it was in vain.

No one could say Merlin didn't try – he really did for Gaius' sake – but it was too painful. He had lost a part of himself, the part that was key to not only his destiny, but the destinies of many, and was expected to go about as if nothing happened. The Crystal Caves were his only hope and even then it was only a slim chance that it would work.

But then there was the meeting.

The Knights of the Round Table held a meeting – along with Gwen, Gaius, and Merlin himself present – to discuss what was to be done with Morgana. When the word Camlann was uttered – a suggestion that Arthur himself made – Merlin swore that he was going to pass out. If anyone had looked over to him, they would have thought he was a ghost. He silently begged for someone to argue, to say that having their battle at Camlann was a bad idea, but his prayers were in vain.

They were going to go to Camlann.

(What could you possibly do Merlin?)

Arthur was going to Camlann.

(How will you save your precious king now Merlin?)

He was going to die in Camlann.

(You're useless now.)

Arthur was going to die if he didn't do something.

(You're going to miss the show. One night only! The death of the mighty Arthur Pendragon! Come one, come all!)

It was the most painful thing that Merlin had to go through. More painful than when he drank from the cup on Arthur's behalf, more painful than all the bruises he had received from Morgana, even more painful than losing his magic.

Looking Arthur in the eye and giving him half-assed excuses as to why he couldn't go to Camlann with him was something Merlin never wanted to repeat as long as he lived.

(He got his wish though, didn't he? Lived a bit longer than expected though.)

The pain that he saw in his best friend's eyes was too much to bear. But the disappointment in Arthur's voice when he spoke was the worst. It sent a shard through his heart; if this was really the last time they spoke to each other, then Merlin would be remembered as a coward in his king's eyes. That was not what Merlin wanted, but that was what Fate had given him.

And so the two had gone on their separate paths; a hurt, betrayed Arthur to Camlann with his knights and queen, and a sorry, equally hurt Merlin with Gwaine to the Crystal Caves. Morgana wouldn't give Merlin any peace though; she had trapped him, taunted him.

(Look at the great Emrys now. Crying and trapped within the cave.)

But Morgana was wrong, so very, very wrong. He had still managed to send Arthur a message, warn him about Morgana's plans. Balinor had given Merlin hope and when he awoke from his slumber, he found the thrumming of magic through his veins once more. The familiar, friendly feeling of his powers was back!

His fight was far from over though.

It was time that Emrys made his appearance at Camlann.

. . .

He had been too late. The proof was the limp King of Camelot that he was carrying in his arms. Merlin had to get him out of here, away from the people that wished to kill him, away from Morgana, away from everything.

This was all his fault! If he had been quicker, if he had focused on killing Mordred, Arthur would have been awake!

When his friend awoke, he couldn't help but sob; out of relief or grief, he didn't know. Merlin also couldn't help the words that slipped past his lips. He had told Arthur everything, yet the stubborn dollop-head wouldn't believe him. It took a demonstration to put the message through his head.

The look in Arthur's eyes when Merlin glanced back almost destroyed him. His king, his master, his best friend peered at him with fear and hatred, disgust and betrayal. All of his worst fears were coming true in that moment. The next words that flew out of Arthur's mouth almost killed Merlin.

"Get away from me."

(You knew this would happen and yet you did it anyways.)

Merlin complied with a heavy heart, wondering if this was how it was going to end; with Arthur hating him. He had been wrong – telling Arthur that he wouldn't be going to Camlann with him wasn't the worst thing to happen in his life, nor was it losing his magic.

The worst thing that ever happened to him was the look in his friend's eyes. Judging him, observing him as if he was a monster.

Maybe he was right.

. . .

The world hated him. That was the only logical explanation. The world hated Merlin so much that they killed Arthur as soon as he accepted Merlin for who he was. Excalibur was gone to the bottom of the lake, and the boat carrying his friend was sailing farther and farther away from him.

Merlin wanted to die.

Morgana was dead. Mordred was dead. Arthur was-

He couldn't bring himself to believe it. Even when he returned to Camelot, Merlin still expected Arthur to bang on his door, demanding him to stop being so lazy and to get to work. Maybe even Gwaine, wanting to go to the tavern with someone or to make Merlin loosen up. But they would never do that ever again.

That's when he tried for the first time.

Gaius had been out working – something that Merlin didn't really have to do anymore now that he had no master – so there was nothing to stop him. It pained him to think what his friends would think when they discovered him, but he just couldn't stand it anymore. Magic being accepted was great, sure, but it meant nothing to him without his friend.

So Merlin grabbed the vial and turned it in his hands for a few moments. This was it. He was going to die. Maybe it was horrible of him to be smiling as wide as he was, but how couldn't he? Merlin uncorked the vial and raised it as if giving a toast.

"I'll be joining you soon Arthur," he whispered before tossing his head back and drowning the contents in one go. Just as Gaius walked in with Gwen – probably to discuss some sort of treaty or to see how he was.

"I'm sorry," Merlin smiled slightly.

"Sorry for what Merlin?" Gaius questioned, unsure of what he was talking about. Then again, no one really knew what Merlin was talking about these days.

It was only when Merlin raised the vial that both Gaius and Gwen understood what had happened. But then it was much too late. The world spun, their shouts were muted, and Merlin fell to the floor, his heart no longer pumping blood.

(I win destiny. I. Win.)

(Not so fast Warlock.)

Merlin woke up an hour later to the worried faces of Gaius, Gwen, Leon, and Percival. The queen hugged him tightly, fearing that she had lost one of her closest friends for good.

"Oh Merlin, never do that again," she whispered, pulling away. Merlin could only shrug, moving to sit up. How could he lie to them and promise such a thing? No, there would be no more lies in his life anymore. He was done with lying, done with secrets.

"We're all hurting Merlin," Leon spoke up. "We've all lost a good friend, many good friends-"

"I'm sorry," Merlin blurted out after seeing the looks on their faces. How could he be so selfish? They had all lost a leader, Gwen had lost her husband, and the kingdom had lost a king they had seen grow up. He was going to make them lose another friend. He was going to make Gaius lose someone he saw as a son.

He was as selfish as Uther.

They had let Merlin rest for a few hours before the knights took him out to the tavern. For a while, everything had been okay. In the next few months, Merlin had only three episodes that shook the castle, slamming dishes and throwing things to the ground. Then, the child was born.

Gwen had been pregnant with Arthur's child when he went to Camlann – she had wanted to tell him, but feared that it wasn't the right time. So when the child was born, she named him after his father.

"Merlin, come here," Gwen spoke wearily, holding the child in her arms. Merlin silently walked over to her side, waiting for her to speak again. She didn't though; instead she handed the bundle in her arms to the warlock.

"Are you sure?" Merlin was frightened. He had fought just about everything: dragons, griffins, the dead, and Morgana, but the thought of holding a child made him want to run to the forest and not look back.

"I trust you Merlin," the queen smiled reassuringly. Hesitantly, Merlin took the child from her arms and his heart swelled with joy; even his magic was celebrating the birth of this wonderful baby boy. He looked so much like Arthur it made Merlin's heart ache. Tears streamed down his face while a huge grin plastered his face. It seemed as though the old Merlin was back.

"Will you still leave Camelot? I can't do this alone Merlin."

Merlin snapped up to meet Gwen's exhausted gaze. How had she known that he was planning to leave? Without giving it a thought, he shook his head.

"I will stay by your side – your family's side – and help protect Camelot for as long as I live," Merlin replied, peering back down at the child in his arms. It seemed that Arthur II was fond of his neckerchief if his tugging was anything to go by.

For the first time after Arthur's death, Merlin felt as if his life held a purpose again.

Life was good.

. . .

Five years later Merlin was wearing black, attending Gaius' funeral. Gwen, Arthur II, Leon, Percival, the knights, and many others were there, paying their respects to the physician. Gaius had many friends amongst the people. Tears fell down Merlin's face freely; he didn't care who was watching him.

He made a dragon out of fire and set it free to fly over the body as a tribute to his mentor. They had all seen it coming; Gaius was getting weaker by the day, to the point where he couldn't deliver medicine to his patients anymore.

He had passed away peacefully in his sleep. Merlin was to take up his responsibilities until they could hire another physician and place them in another room in the castle.

Arthur could see how pained everyone was and couldn't understand it. Gaius was just sleeping, wasn't he? The truth sank in soon enough and the boy began to weep into his mother's shoulder. When he noticed his 'uncle' Merlin crying though, he demanded to be put down.

As soon as his little feet touched the ground, he ran to Merlin and hugged his legs. The warlock looked down at the boy before kneeling down to be level with his 'nephew.'

"What is it Arthur?" he asked quietly. Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin's neck.

"I don't want you to cry anymore. Gaius doesn't want you to either."

Merlin chuckled quietly and lifted the boy into his arms as he stood. "Then I won't," he said, carrying the boy back to the castle as the ceremony ended. It was time someone got a bath anyways. Merlin couldn't help but give the boy whatever he wanted; but when it came to baths, he had to put his foot down.

"But I don't want to take a bath Merlin!" he pouted, trying to squirm out of the man's grip. Merlin chuckled and shut the door quickly, locking it before preparing the boy's bath.

"If you take a bath, I'll do some more magic," Merlin bargained. By the way the boy's eyes sparkled, he knew that he had won the battle.

. . .

When Arthur was seven years old, his mother Gwen married Leon after he had been courting her for over two years. It was a happy ceremony, with many special tricks that Merlin performed for the married couple.

"When will you marry Merlin?" Leon asked, noticing that his friend wasn't really up for dancing with anyone. His new stepson was excitedly talking to the other kids that were attending and his wife was talking to one of the serving girls that she knew.

Merlin almost spit out his wine. "Uhh, I don't really know Leon. When I meet someone?" He gave a slight shrug and an awkward smile. Marrying had never crossed his mind in all these years. All that concerned him was Arthur's return and the running of Camelot.

"That'll only happen if you go look for someone Merlin," Leon teased, bumping his shoulder. The warlock could see that his friend really was worried for him, that he was still hurting.

"I'll try Leon." Merlin gave his friend a smile before Leon was called over by his wife. A few moments later, a woman had asked him to dance and – noticing his friend's pointed looks – accepted.

It was a night full of joy, but his heart still ached; he wished that Arthur was here. He wanted to tease his friend and make sure that he had to wait before getting his cup refilled. Taking a look at his son though made Merlin take his thoughts off of his dead friend.

He would take care of Arthur's son no matter what.

. . .

It was 2014. Merlin was still left wandering the Earth; he was immortal until his king returned. Was that his punishment? To watch everyone he loved die while he lived on through the centuries? Whoever thought that this was a good joke was going to get strangled by the warlock.

He had seen so many things in his endless lifetime: Arthur II take the throne and continue the Pendragon lineage with his own children, the fall of Camelot, the Renaissance, and so much more. He had also lost so many that he loved: Gwen, Leon, Percival, Kilgharrah, Arthur II and his children, the list went on and on.

Merlin just wanted it to end. His immortality ached in his bones, he begged for death to arrive. He just couldn't stand it anymore. The months that blurred into years that blurred into centuries was too much for him now. All he wanted, all he wished for, was the sweet embrace of death. His home was gone, only to live on in the minds of man as a legend. His entire life, his friends' lives were all thought to be a story.

It could've been worse; the legends were off of course, but they were nice. Arthur was the brave king people told their kids about. Merlin didn't really care as to how he was perceived. The one thing that bugged him most about the new world was the disbelief in magic. Maybe it was for the best though; times had changed far too much. The world was no longer in touch with the Earth.

Merlin tried his best to not drown himself in memories of his friends. He didn't stay in Camelot anymore once Arthur II had ruled for a decade; he knew how to rule without Merlin's help – the kingdom was at peace without even the slightest threat of war. There had been visits here and there – especially on birthdays – but Merlin couldn't bear to live in the citadel with all the fresh memories of his deceased friends. He no longer belonged within Camelot's walls.

Oh how that boy argued – he didn't want Merlin to leave, but after seeing that his uncle needed this more than anything, he complied. When it was time for him to die it felt as if someone had cut open Merlin's chest and was twisting his heart in every possible direction and then some. He stayed only until the funeral and coronation were over, and then disappeared. Visits were no longer as frequent and soon stopped altogether.

His life wasn't marred completely with pain – no, he had met many of his friends throughout the centuries. They gave him a spark of hope throughout the long years. Merlin had met them all several times except for Arthur. He'd still have to wait for his dear friend. He felt it though; that time was quickly approaching. The air was practically exploding with magic. He slowly found the others in the following months. Their group was almost complete for the first time in millennia.

What was going to happen that was so grave that Albion needed her greatest king once more?

None of that mattered to him anymore when he awoke one night, sprinting to the lake. The air was thick – something was about to go down.

(Something was climbing out of the water.)

His heart beat faster. Could he really let himself hope?

(A glint of blond hair, the armour that he spent forever polishing.)

Was it a trick? Did someone slip something into his drink? It was probably Gwaine.

(That stupid dollop-head.)

It was him. Dear dragons it was Arthur!

"Merlin? Is that you?"

The warlock didn't give a damn; he just about tackled the man in a hug.

"Welcome back Arthur," he grinned, letting go of his friend.

"What do you mean back? What's happened Merlin? And what in the name of the goddessesare you wearing?"

Merlin laughed and shook his head. There was so much to explain, so much to share. It was time that the Knights of the Round Table held another meeting. Before all that though, Merlin was going to savour this moment – having his best friend, the man he had been waiting for all these years by his side again.

Whatever was going to happen could wait until tomorrow.

. . .

What do you think? Did I do a decent job? It's my first Merlin fic so I'm really worried about posting this.