Merlin's magic (Oneshots) 1

The worst timeline

This is angsty af. Just as a warning.
No, I don't know where this came from.
You're welcome :)

(the art is.... well..... Arthur. As a small compensation. Please forgive me. I should have given it more time)

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'Arthur would have been 50 by now.", Merlin thinks, as he stares at Gaius's freshly dug grave.

Gaius, the old physician. He had been well on his way to turn hundred.
But there was no surprise, no bravado in his death. It just happened, as death often comes in life.
It's more predictable than most people believe.
And Gaius's life had been a long and a well lived one.

Merlin hadn't counted the years since Arthur died. He couldn't even tell you the year he died.
Because he had decided to keep the memory of the living Arthur alive. Not the dying one. That meant, counting his birthdays, not the days he wasn't there anymore. Though, he would admit, he still knew the exact route he chose to get Arthur to the lake of Avalon. And it didn't help that his death- and birthday happened to fall on the same day.

Instead, Merlin had also forgotten his own birthday. That was a day he hadn't even celebrated when he was still in Ealdor. It just wasn't a thing then. So he kind of... forgot when it was.
Arthur's however...
He celebrated it every year. He remembered the exact day and the exact rituals Arthur followed each year.
Merlin even took the time to grief, that Arthur usually spend thinking about his mom. Who had died during childbirth. During Arthur's birth. Something Arthur had no control over, and yet blamed himself for.

But Merlin grieved his friend. Not his mother. He was thankful for her sacrifice, despite everything it caused.

Merlin had long left Camelot, after the battle of Camlann. He send letters to Gwen and the knights sometimes. But he couldn't stand being in a home that had lost it's most important member.
Because not Camelot was Merlin's home, he realized after months of being alone. Arthur was.

Merlin wondered, who had lifted Gaius's body here.
Probably Percival. His letter had been the first to arrive that told him the news of Gaius's passing.
Percival was the physically strongest one of the knights.
Ironically, he was not referred to as "strength" by the magical beings that loved to annoy Merlin in the small hut he lived in.
It was the coal hut he had used to call the home of Dragoon. And that he had found during the Dorocha attack. Lancelot and him had slept there for a night, finding the owner of the house cold and lifeless from the touch of the Dorocha.
Ironically, Percival saw the true strength of Camelot die. Gwaine must have thought he failed them all, when he gave Morgana Arthur's location. But he hadn't.
He'd lead Morgana to Merlin. Which gave Merlin the opportunity to finally kill her with Arthur's sword.
'You've brought peace at last.', Arthur had said.
'I haven't. You did.', Merlin had wanted to say. Now he regretted never getting to that.

Merlin shook his head. After all these years, non of those memories felt any lighter. None of his burdens any easier.

Magic may be legal now – thanks to Gwen – but Merlin felt strange using it.
It may be a habit to do his chores by hand, but Merlin rather watched his own kin finally live in peace and without fear, rather than participating in his own magical freedom himself.
A freedom that Arthur had given him, by accepting him.

But Merlin had reached a point, where he'd rather not be accepted for who he was, if that meant Arthur was still alive.
It was such a strong feeling, that it even out weight the grief he was supposed to feel for Gaius.