The Thousandth Year || Merlin fanfic

Merlin- Waiting

I notice the butterfly straight away- it is a strange colour, an odd, vibrant red, harsh in the gunmetal twilight. Its feather light wings flutter, and its miniscule body comes to rest in the palm of my outstretched hand. I detect it immediately. Every living thing has an aura, a signature, if you will. This being had magic, strong for such a small creature. In fact the strongest I'd felt for a very long time. I frown, and release the bug, sending it spiralling into the sky. Not my business. I remind myself. I was here to meet someone, not to nose my way into other people's business. And that bug was a person, I was sure of it, a shape-shifter. But again, none of my business. Where was Alaric, anyway? He was the whole reason I was here. I sigh in relief as I see him, pushing his way through the crowd. He stops a few feet away, then inclines his head towards me.

"Emrys." He says. I feel my face, stony with mistrust, crumble into a smile, and then he is grinning too, and I'm hugging him, hard, and we're both laughing and slapping each others shoulders, and I'm smiling so much my cheeks hurt.

"Alaric! Its so good to see you! How have you been?" He shrugs, his shoulder length brown hair rippling in the sun.

"You know me, Em. Surviving. Same old, same old. What about you?"

He interrupts me before I can even finish shaking my head. "Oh, come on." The grin on his face is contagious. "Something interesting must have happened to the great warlock Emrys, last dragonlord of the north, prince of the moon..." as he speaks, he sweeps into a low, mocking bow. I laugh, but quickly shove him from his stance, and try not to let my discomfort show.

We both start walking at the same time, heading for our usual coffee shop off Brooklane road, chatting about the pack- when I ran into Alaric a few decades ago, he had just become the alpha of a major werewolf pack, a position he has held with ease thanks to my help. He is the closest thing left to me in this world that I can call 'friend'. Why don't you tell him your real name then? A voice whispers in my head. It spoke in Gaius's voice- it always does, when it is talking sense. And I know it does make sense- Alaric is a good friend, and I wouldn't have survived these last years without him. But my name has been long forgotten, save for myths and legends, and although Alaric has his suspicions, he knows me simply as Emrys.

As the word 'thankyou' brushed through his lips, and his heart stopped, I stopped being who I was. He died alongside Arthur, and Camelot was no longer my home.

I did return to Camelot though- I had to see Gaius, just once more. I try to yank myself from the history of it- somethings just hurt too much to revisit. But the pull of the past is irrefusable, especially when you can remember it in such clarity. Each detail is ingrained in my mind forever, as I made my way towards one of the only people left in the world I cared about. Although each step I took inside that castle was heavy as lead, and excruciating agony tore through me, every time my feet hit the floor in a rhythm as steady as a heartbeat when I knew his wouldn't beat again, I pushed myself to the last refuge that I could call home.

Everywhere I looked I could see his ghost, his face, burned into the inside of my eyelids. Gaius was sitting by the window when I came in- almost like he was waiting for something. Me. He jumped up as I stumbled through the door. I could only take one look at his wrinkled, pained face, and the guilty relief sinking into it, before I fell to my knees, blanking into unconciousness. When I woke, I was in my bed, and Gaius was leaning anxiously over me. As he saw my eyes flicker open, he exhaled sharply, as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He didn't say anything, but hugged me tightly. I clung onto him, the way a man clings to a lifeboat in a storm, as the sobs racked my body. He still didnt say anything, not for the hours he held me as my tears began to dry. They haven't though. And I know they never will. I stayed in Camelot for only a few more hours- as long as I could bear. I didn't take anything with me though- nothing except one of his cloaks- red with the gold pendragon crest, and a rabbits foot, given to me so long ago by Gaius. I saw Gwen, from afar. Her face was stony and strong and I knew why she was the once and future queen. If you didn't know ber, you wouldn't have been able to tell she was suffering. I did know her though, and I could see the pain bubbling just under the surface. I remembered the reason for her pain, and it hit me all over again.

In that moment, as we mourned the same lament, I must have let my invisibility glamour slip, and she caught sight of me. Her lips parted in suprise, and to her credit, she did not exclaim or shout, but slipped calmly from her throne and walked towards me, her gait short and clipped. I had vanished into shadow long before she reached me- I could not face her, could not give her hope when there was none. Because how could 'I'm sorry' ever be enough? I left Camelot at once, sickened with myself, and unable to see past the tearing hole in my chest. I wanted to comfort her, but there was no comfort to give.

I drag myself into present day, kicking myself as I do. What good did it do, to dwell on those memories, when all they brought was misery and madness? I tell myself this nearly everyday, but it does no good. These thoughts wriggle into my head whether I want them to or not, and I have not gotten any better at blocking them out, despite the passing years. I realize Alaric is still talking, and I smile distractedly, hoping that my absence from the conversation hasn't been noticed. Alaric understanding grimace tells me it has though, and I sigh a little, running a hand through my white silver beard. We go into the coffee house, a pretty corner shop on the edge of town. They love me in here- primarily for the tips.

Alaric launches into a rant about some omega who's causing upheaval within the pack, and know he's working up to asking me to help. I sigh internally, but settle in to listen. Because although Alaric doesn't know who I really am, although the name Merlin has faded to myth, I can't resist the opportunity to help.