The Thousandth Year || Merlin fanfic

Merlin- Beards

I stumble forward, catching myself on my chair as I do, moving in the irritatingly slow way you do when you are dreaming. Then the spell breaks, and I am running, running like I've never run before. I skid to a stop less than a metre away from him, close enough to touch.

"No way." I whisper. "No freaking way."

The figure, who is lying prone across the sand, rolls over as if he is in pain. He is stripped naked to the waist, and his body is covered in shallow cuts, his torso a mosaic of bruises. But there is no mistaking that face. That chiseled, annoyingly superior face. He looks up; meets my gaze and smiles a tired smile through blood and bruises.

"Hello, old friend." He says.

The next thing I know, I have thrown my arms around his neck, and I am sobbing the litany of his name. He does not mock, but places his hand on the back of my head, comforting me, hugging me tight. I pull back slightly, devouring the sight of him, the tousled hair, the high cheekbones, and the eyes which seemed to never stop laughing. Right now though, they are crumpled shut, and a solitary tear winds its way down his cheek.

He looks up at me at the same way I am looking at him- as if he's the only thing left on this earth. "You're here." He says, in a voice that somehow doesn't shake. "You're here."

"I never left, Arthur. I couldn't." I inhale sharply, as more tears threaten. I blink them back furiously, and scrub a hand across my cheek. I cannot unfasten my eyes from his face.

"I thought this day would never come." I say, "I thought you'd left me."

He smiles, ruffling my hair, in the same way he always did. "Course not." I look to the sky, to where I know the white goddess is watching.

"Thank you." I whisper. "Thank you." I hug Arthur again, barely daring to believe.

Swallowing, Arthur pulls away, an embarrassed grimace darting across his lips as he hastily wipes his eyes. I lean back, a disbelieving, choked laugh escaping my mouth as I stare at him.

"Its really you." I say, mostly to myself. Arthur opens his mouth, a retort clearly already on his tongue, but he closes it wordlessly. He nods. I send an exhilarated laugh spinning into the sky, then grab him in another hug. He shrugs away from me, one eyebrow raised.

"Calm down, Merlin!"

I laugh again, closing my eyes and simply revelling in the sensation of being near him again. He slaps me across the shoulder, then heaves himself to his feet. Scrambling after him, I cannot help but stare at his back, barely able to comprehend what this means. No more loneliness. No more clutching a ruby red cloak in an empty room. No more wondering if I was cursed to this half-life. I speed up and match my pace to his, unable to keep the grin from my face, nor the tears from my cheeks.

"So," I say in an attempt at normalcy. "How was hell?" He throws me a look.

"I didn't go to hell, Merlin." He says with obvious contempt.

"Oh, really?" I grin. "What was it then? Chubby angels serving you wine, with rainbows and pretty flowers?"

"Yes and the angel Gabriel painted my nails while Michael did my hair."

"Thought it was looking good."

He smiles reluctantly, and shakes his head at me.

"Have you changed at all, Merlin?"

"You didn't want me to." I say, not bothering to hide the ache in my voice.

He is silent for a few long, long moments.