The Myth Itself

1: The Boy Who Waited

The story of Merlin was incomplete. How others might have seen it is something of a myth, a story. The story was that of a tragedy. For what history knows, Arthur died in the battle by Mordred's hands. Merlin held his best friend in his arms, crying out to the world in indescribable pain. But, this wasn't the end. Oh no, that was only the beginning.

You see, Merlin had often heard of the phrase, "They were two sides of the same coin."

Why is this relevant to the story? Well, because this wasn't the story of a tragedy. The myth made that so. Because history hates lovers.

Yes,if you were wondering, the myth of Merlin was a love story. And this is the story of how Merlin waited for his King to come home.

"Didn't Arthur die?"

Indeed, that part of the myth is true. He did die. Here's the twist, Merlin died with him too. "Two sides of the same coin." Merlin died of heartbreak, something he didn't know that that was what it was. Two souls are made for each other, and two souls die. A negative and a negative equals a positive.

The question is, when will the once and future king of camelot return home?

You might be thinking "this is bullshit. You're not going to change anything. Stop trying to make something happen that isn't going to happen. He died, get over it." Carry on thinking that, because that my dear readers, is how our story starts.

We rejoin Merlin in the twenty-first century. Many years he's suffered, but perhaps he won't suffer for much longer.

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In a land far from myth, and far from a time of legend, lies a very old man, with a young face. His great destiny is done, but he is still in the land of Albion. Waiting for his King to return home. Six days before the end of the world, as he knew it. His name, Merlin.

"Arthur!"

Merlin woke up with a start, sitting up on his bed as he breathed heavily. He leaned his head back against the cold wall, pinching the brim of his nose as he groaned frustradely. Fifteen hundred years and he was still waking up to Arthur's death.

When would it all just stop? Why was he still here? Why had he watched all of his friends die and why did he get to continue to live? It wasn't like he wanted to. But that was a story for another time, he thought as he looked at his alarm clock on the bedside table.

05:30am. December 15th, 2019.

Slowly, he got out of bed and strolled to the bathroom. As he showered, he glanced at his scars. The scars that were his battle wounds, and his personal wounds. Some were fresher than others, and as he took his razor, and held it shakily, he let out a small whimper.

He didn't feel anything. He had no more tears left to cry. He had no more pain left in him. He couldn't... he just couldn't.

Yet, something was keeping him.

Only it wasn't something keeping him. It was someone.

He will rise again, Merlin had never given up that hope. Even when others did. He always had hope that Arthur would come back to him.

Until that day comes, here he was. Struggling to get his day started as he washed the blood away from his wrist. Washing his face, he stepped out of the shower and walked through his flat back to his bedroom. He decided to wear black skinny jeans, and a long sleeved grey sweatshirt. He didn't bother to dry his hair as he walked into his kitchen/living room area.

He wasn't hungry, so he sat on the sofa and turned on the flat screen television to watch the news.

As he did this he scrolled through his phone, mainly Tumblr, and liked a few fan theories about the show that was made about him and Arthur. He was surprised when that came out. It was pretty accurate, but as usual, they missed one thing.