Author's Note: This story stands on its own, but it does follow the epilogue in my story "Second Chance." So if you're curious about what happened before this, feel free to check it out.

"This is where you live?" Arthur asked, head pitched back, staring up at the three leveled stone manor house. Its exterior mirrored Camelot in some ways, especially the suggestion of rounded turrets built into its sides.

Merlin stroked his white beard. "I've had fifteen hundred years, give or take a little, to save up."

Arthur shook his head, eyes a bit dazed. Merlin assessed his armored king. So far he'd handled things pretty well, but then he'd always been good at confronting the unexpected, falling easily into "deal with it" mode. And Merlin had prepared him somewhat for his transition to the modern world before leaving the lake, at least, explained things would be quite different than he was used to. Still, Merlin was glad he'd chosen to live close to the lake, and far away from anything that might have made Arthur's return harder.

After they'd met and talked at the lake, Merlin wanted to get Arthur back to his home as soon as possible. He needed the king safely squirreled away before destiny revealed itself. He'd planned for this day, dreamed of it, but found it more difficult than he expected. He could tell Arthur was trying to take it all in stride, but he appeared strained, and Merlin had begun to worry he hadn't done enough.

Merlin fished for the key in his pocket, unlocked the door, and stood aside. "Come on in."

Arthur stepped inside, keen blue eyes scrutinizing every detail. The foyer was quite large in itself, though cluttered. The whole house was really. Merlin had picked up so much during his travels, antiques and oddities. It had some organization, but only his brain cataloged it.

"Maid's out for the week," Merlin commented, dropping the bags he'd carried to the lake on the large oriental rug inside the doorway. He pulled off his cap and coat and dumped them on top, and smoothed down the long sleeves of his blue sweater, appreciating the warmth.

"You have a maid, too?" Arthur questioned, turning in continued shock.

"You don't think I clean it all myself, do you?"

Arthur stared, then shook his head.

Merlin gestured towards the rest of the house. "Want me to give you the tour?"

Arthur nodded dumbly.

Merlin rubbed his hands together nervously. "First two rooms are greeting areas. Not much there. Sometimes, though, I have visitors."

"What kind?" Arthur asked curiously.

Merlin ducked his head. "Parliamentary officials. Erm...Like nobles kind of."

"You entertain nobles?"

"I may have written some books. Gotten a bit of a following."

Arthur let a smile flood his face. "I think you chose the wrong subject at the lake. Should have told me more about your life."

"This is it really," Merlin said, spreading his hands wide to encompass the mansion.

"What is all the stuff in there?" Arthur waved at the two greeting rooms.

"Trinkets I picked up traveling. We'll talk about it later." They held memories for him, but wouldn't have any significance for Arthur yet. Merlin hurried on. "Kitchen's just that way," he pointed to the left. "You're welcome to get anything you want whenever."

Arthur stopped, peering up at a grand wooden staircase that led to the second floor.

Merlin turned to the right. "Greenhouse back here." Seeing Arthur's confusion, he amended, "A garden, but inside."

Arthur peeked inside the glass enclosed room. "It's...impressive."

"Lots to experiment with," Merlin explained.

"You followed in Gaius' footsteps then."

"A little."

Merlin moved on. "Then this." He strode to the far left, passing an unopened middle door. He pulled at a door farther down. "Menagerie."

Arthur tilted his head. "Animals?"

"And other things," Merlin added cryptically.

Arthur narrowed his eyes, stepping in for a moment and then pointing with wide eyes. "What is that?"

Merlin coughed as he cast his gaze upon a creature curled up under a broad green leaf in a glass terrarium. "Fairy."

"It looks like a tiny woman."

"She was wounded near the lake. I brought her here. She's healing well, I think."

"Fairies are real," Arthur stated slowly.

"Lots of things are real."

Arthur turned his head to him. "But fairies?"

"Griffins? Goblins? The Questing Beast?"

Arthur let out a short laugh. "Point taken."

Merlin shut the door quietly and sauntered back to the middle one. "We'll spend most of our time here probably."

Arthur walked inside and stifled a gasp. Every wall boasted a bookshelf from floor to ceiling, completely filled, and multiple tables were hardly visible, covered in books new and old. "It's bigger than the library in Camelot!"

Merlin grinned at Arthur's amazement. He paced the walls and Arthur followed. Merlin ran his hand over the spines in some of the cases. "I've collected things you'll need to learn. History, Science, Philosophy." He paused, pulling one out and handing it to Arthur. "Though we should probably start with language first."

Arthur weighed the book in his hand. "Of course. It would have changed over so much time."

When he didn't look up, Merlin leaned down to catch his eye. "Arthur?"

Arthur raised his head and shoved the book into Merlin's hands. "They keep the word clotpole?"

Merlin smiled. "It's hung on."

"Knowing you, you've probably added more colorful insults to your repertoire."

"A few," Merlin admitted.

"And can't wait to spout them."

Merlin only laughed. Arthur moved on, fingering books here and there, then moving swiftly to the west wall. A large fireplace burned merrily. A twin bed and an overstuffed easy chair were positioned in front of it as well as a side table with a clock and a plate dirtied from a leftover meal.

"You sleep here," Arthur realized. He picked up an open book from the bed. "And you..." He read a few words, then set it back down guiltily. "Record your private thoughts."

"You can read it. Any book here is for you. Everything I've written, I did it with you in mind."

Arthur let his eyes wander the library. "How much here is your work?"

"Half. Maybe more."

Arthur's eyes pierced his former manservant. Merlin felt suddenly afraid he'd overwhelmed his king. He stepped up, taking Arthur's arm to pull him back towards the door.

"Wait." Arthur slowed and indicated the wall just inside the room. He pushed the door back to get an unobstructed view. "Who are all these people? They're so real."

"Some are painted portraits and those photographs," Merlin explained as he ran his eyes over the framed photos. "People's images can be...recorded. Copied."

Arthur bobbed his head in amazement, then leaned in closer to one frame. "That's...you." Arthur pointed to a picture with two people, then to another. "And this...and here...here. Merlin?"

Merlin spoke sheepishly. "They're my wives...and children. Some grandchildren."

Arthur laughed aloud. "You found this many women willing to love you?"

Merlin chuckled, enjoying the jab.

Arthur laid a finger on one of the photographs. "Who was the first?

"She's not there." Merlin reached to his neck and tugged on the chain under his shirt. "Here." Arthur turned as Merlin undid the clasp on a circular locket. The king leaned over to view a miniature portrait of a woman sporting dark eyes and dark hair with the wisp of a smile on her face.

"Iona," Merlin whispered. He shifted his gaze from the locket to meet Arthur's eyes. He couldn't quite read the king's expression.

"Would she be jealous?" Arthur asked quietly. "Of the others?" He turned back to the wall.

"She would have been delighted how many women I found to love me."

"Did you...tell them?" Arthur's voice was barely a whisper.

Merlin understood he meant his magic. "Most."

"And they believed you?"

Merlin's eyes twinkled as Arthur looked back at him. "Most."

"Which is the most recent?

Merlin paced to the far right of the display. He pointed to a simple wooden frame where he looked as he did now, an old man with an old woman at his side, appearing grandmotherly and kind. "Judith. We met after the last world war. She'd lost her sons. We shared grief and then love."

"World war?"

"History. I'll tell you about it another time."

Arthur blinked uncertainly. Merlin regretted he'd started on the first level. Should have taken him upstairs immediately. "Arthur?" He gripped his elbow.

"I'm fine."

"Let's go upstairs," Merlin encouraged. He aided Arthur to the door, then let him go as they made their way to the grand stairs, climbing to the second level. There was only one door at the landing. "I prepared this for you," Merlin said as he pulled open the door to one long hallway with three doorways echoing the ones below.

Arthur stared warily as Merlin entered the middle doorway without preamble. He'd hardly wrapped his mind around most of what Merlin had told him at the lake and the rooms downstairs had set his heart pounding. Heat pressed in on his forehead and cheeks, and he sucked in a deep breath to recover himself, forced his feet to keep moving in this topsy-turvy world he'd returned to.

He banished the fear from his expression as he trailed Merlin, then let out a guffaw when relief washed through him. "The armory!" he exclaimed. He knew it. Every fixture, every stone. He circled it, touching familiar objects and drinking in the smell of burnished metal and freshly hewn wood. "How did you do it?"

"Some of the weapons are original. I've found others. Made some."

"Made some?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"Right. Magic."

"I'm going to transform again."

Arthur heard the plea for permission in his tone. "I hardly think you need to ask me to do anything anymore."

"I didn't want to startle you."

"Go ahead," Arthur said, though his breath caught in his throat as Merlin uttered the same spell he had at the lake and his older form melted away to reveal the younger man he had known. Even the second time around it was breathtaking to watch.

Merlin bowed his head. "My lord."

"No titles," Arthur ordered.

Merlin smiled mischievously as he moved behind him and began to unbuckle his armor.

"Merlin, stop. You don't have to act like this anymore."

"You don't know how much I've longed to do this. You'd need help anyway. If not from a servant, then a friend."

Arthur felt awkward at first, but as Merlin fell into familiar routine, he calmed. This was right and good. They didn't meet eyes as Merlin removed his armor, carefully setting each piece on the table next to them. He did watch when Merlin paused to fondly stroke his sword, the one he'd pulled from the stone. When he was down to his padded arming coat, Merlin passed him a long sleeved red shirt with ties and a new pair of trousers. Arthur changed while Merlin considered the clothing on the table.

"I'll wash these and polish the armor."

Arthur finished tying up the shirt. "You won't."

Merlin smiled at him. "You think I have magic? You should see a washing machine."

Arthur turned his head. "Another change?"

"A laundry basin that washes for you."

"Are you sure the world isn't populated with sorcerers now?"

Merlin chuckled. "No, we're fairly rare."

"And armor polishing?" Arthur asked, gesturing to the pieces on the table.

Merlin's eyes gleamed gold and a cloth zoomed across the room, the armor floating into the air, submitting itself for cleaning.

Arthur gawked. "Did you ever..."

"Yep," Merlin answered. "When you needed it quicker than I could manage by hand."

Arthur looked to his former servant. "If I'd only known."

Merlin turned quickly away. "Come on."

Arthur followed him back into the hall and to the doorway on the right.

"You probably won't spend much time here. This was a little self-indulgent on my part."

Arthur peeked in. "Gaius' chambers!"

"As good a place as any for experiments."

Arthur's eyes roamed the room as good a rendition as the armory.

"This way."

Arthur turned to see Merlin moving to the last door at the other end of the hall. Merlin paused, fixing his eye on him. "Welcome home, Arthur." Arthur worked not to gape. The armory had been enough, Gaius' chambers a surprise, but his own? He shuffled inside, taking in every recreated detail.

"How long it must have taken you!"

Merlin shrugged. "Magic makes it much easier, and I had the time."

"It's perfect, Merlin. Every bit of it."

Merlin beamed at the praise. Arthur copied his broad smile. He hadn't said that enough in the past, had he? Or ever. He'd managed to say "thank you" at the very end. Not that he hadn't said it before, but he hadn't meant it to cover Merlin's sacrifices for him and the kingdom. Arthur's chest tightened. He moved quickly on, the memory heavy on his already boggled mind. He might have managed to cage his emotion if he hadn't caught sight of a long rectangular fabric tacked to the wall that shouldn't have been there if the room were an exact replica.

Arthur stopped. "Guinevere," he whispered. "Are these..." He couldn't finish the question.

Merlin's voice spoke near his shoulder, low and gentle. "Your wife and child and grandchildren."

Arthur stared at the portrait depicted on the fabric. Gwen seated in the middle, older, stately, and still beautiful. Their son to her right, tall, broad-shouldered, curly haired, regal. His son's wife he presumed on Gwen's left, braided copper hair, lithe, yet muscular. And then the grandchildren standing to each side of the seated trio.

Arthur raised a finger and ran it over Gwen's hair, then focused his eyes on his son's, blue meeting brown. Merlin had told him their story at the lake, how Gwen had been with child at Camlann, and they hadn't known it. How his son had been born with Merlin's aid. How the kingdom hadn't been entirely safe, and it had taken his son and sorcerers and Gwen and so many others to secure it.

Arthur let his eyes run left and right down the long portrait. They'd suffered so many trials without him...and celebrated so many joys without him. A lump caught in his throat, his eyes misted, and he couldn't breathe. His knees went weak and he faltered.

"Arthur!" Merlin called out. He drew him to the bed and Arthur sat, pressing one palm to the mattress, the other to his chest.

He tried to speak, dismiss the weakness, but his entire body grew incredibly hot and he was suddenly sobbing. Merlin held his forearms, and Arthur let his forehead fall to the man's shoulder as he wept. Merlin said nothing, and for that Arthur would be eternally grateful.

The pain in Arthur's chest lightened the longer he cried, no, grieved, grieved for all he had lost. Fifteen hundred years! He raised his limp arms as he caught his breath, grasping Merlin's shoulders and lifted his head to meet reflected blue eyes. "You lived alone. All these years."

Arthur noted Merlin's own cheeks were wet. "Not much of the time," his friend assured. "I've lived a good life. Several good lives."

"I'm sorry," Arthur choked out. "So sorry. I should have done things differently. You should have been able to tell me."

Merlin cradled Arthur's head in his hands. "Don't apologize." Fresh tears appeared in his eyes. "Don't, Arthur."

"Merlin." Arthur could hardly get the name out.

Merlin put his forehead to Arthur's and closed his eyes. "I'm here. Forever. I'll never leave your side and I'm never going to die."

Merlin lounged in a chair, watching his king on his side in the bed, eyes closed, chest rising and falling lightly. Arthur had been sleeping for close to two hours. He had incanted a silent spell, bringing needed rest. All these years imagining his king's return, and Arthur breaking down hadn't occurred to him. Surprise, shock, yes. The world had changed too much not to experience some of that, but the weeping. He should have prepared him better before showing him everything.

Merlin glanced down at his own wrinkled hands. The spell to make himself younger wasn't hard, and he'd made good use of it over the years, but it did wear after a time. He toyed with his beard. Truth was, he liked being old. You could get away with more and people were far less suspicious.

"What are you grinning at?"

Merlin turned his attention back to Arthur who was staring at him. He whispered the spell, letting his younger form appear once more.

"I think I'm getting used to that," Arthur muttered.

"There's food there for you." Merlin pointed to the table.

Arthur glanced at the plate, then rolled onto his back.

"How are you?"

"I'll be all right."

"Arthur⸺"

"Merlin." He gazed at the canopy of the bed. "I meant what I said. You should have been able to trust me. I failed you. I'm sorry."

Merlin laughed sadly. "You failed? Arthur, you died. In my arms. Because I didn't stop the prophecy about Mordred."

Silence dominated for a moment, then Arthur turned back on his side to lock his eyes on the warlock's. "We share the blame, then."

Merlin nodded. "And the past is the past. Regretting it doesn't change it." Goodness knows he had learned that lesson more than once after living so long.

Arthur regarded the man who had walked next to him selflessly, all the way to the end. The man who had defended him and killed Morgana, who had implored him to stay when he lay dying, whose strong arms holding tight were his last memory. He swallowed as unshed tears graced his eyes.

"The truth is...if anyone had to remain...I'm glad it's you. I loved Gwen, still do. The knights were brothers, but Merlin, there never was anyone like you. I never told you..." He coughed and wiped a hand over his eyes.

"You don't have to."

"Shut up and listen, clotpole."

Merlin smiled softly.

"I...cared for you." Arthur spoke to the bedsheets. "Not like a girl. Like a brother. But more than that..." Arthur let out a frustrated growl and flopped onto his back.

Merlin stood and closed the distance between them, perching on the edge of the bed and beholding the man who was his friend, in the past, in the present, and into eternity. "We're linked by soul."

Arthur looked up at the smiling face and saw wisdom. "That's it."

"Like two sides of a coin. Inescapably minted together."

"Did you get that from a book?" Arthur asked, a hint of humor in his tone.

Merlin's grin reached his eyes. "Sure."

Arthur smiled back. His gaze returned to the canopy. Merlin lay back next to him, doing likewise. Neither thought much. Thoughts weren't needed. Presence was enough. Until Merlin finally spoke again.

"Iona was my first wife, but not the first woman I loved."

"What?" Arthur turned his head to him.

"The woman who talked to you at the lake before you found me?"

"Yes?"

"She had dark hair running over her shoulders, chestnut eyes, a soft voice that resolved every fear. Her name's Freya."

"She was your first love? How? When?"

Merlin turned on his side, propping his head in his hand. "Well, it all started when Gaius and I saw this girl in a bounty hunter's cage..."