Those Who Waited (BBC Merlin)

Chapter 14: The Return

Finally, Merlin was coming up to his 100 years. Again. Just two more weeks, and then he would be in the body of his youth again. It didn't really ease his mind, it's not as though he would forget or feel any different, but at least his bones wouldn't ache so much and his body wouldn't decaying before him. Plus, hunting and the repairs his house needed would be much easier to accomplish with lean, wiry muscle and natural flexibility.

It was rather irksome that his reform was to the day. Really, what was two weeks compared to a century—hell, compared to the many centuries he'd lived?

The old warlock grumbled petulantly about this under his breath as he walked through the undergrowth. He'd completed his chores and now was patiently awaiting his death—and sleep—and life, so the old man ignored the fact that his legs still took him to the edges of a random clearing that was practically untouched even by nature itself. You'd think he'd learn, even after a damned decade.

"You're late, you know," a voice startled him and the old man's knees wobbled and bent. Gnarled fingers snatched at a nearby branch, and Merlin caught himself before peering, wide-eyed and yet with his teeth showing in his scowl, between the trees. He was on the outside of the clearing, just one layer of trunks separating his feet from the smooth grass.

His scowl melted immediately as he took in the solitary figure perched in the grass, arms loosely hanging over the knees of crossed legs. Merlin stepped closer and his lungs collapse as all air rushed out of them. His legs continued to push forward, shaking and weak but determined, until the old man stood in the clearing as well. The gazes locked on each other, studying one another's face. Merlin saw absolutely nothing—the forest around them could be on fire and he wouldn't know—except the face before him, surrounded by a mop of brunette hair. His vision threatened to blur as the tears filled his eyes but Merlin fought harshly to refuse that, to refuse any interruption.

The person looked back with eyes that were filled with awe, seeming to not quite believe that they were there either.

"You're him, aren't you?" the voice said again, and Merlin's heart stuttered at the familiar voice. So very familiar, and yet he hadn't heard it in so very long. "All this time, you were here."

Merlin nodded eagerly, unable to speak but desperately hoping the affirmation was pleasing. In his mind, how could it not be? A tiny slip of voice did manage to crawl into his throat, and Merlin encouraged it out.

"Hello, Gwaine."

***********

Merlin struggled to sit in front of Gwaine, the young man too stunned to act to assist him until he'd already completed the task. The old man chuckled at his sheepish face. The boy was really a man now, Merlin thought, at twenty-six years and yet still seemed awkward right now. Once they'd both settled, the motions seemed to permanently snap Gwaine out of his trance because he began talking too Merlin's all too eager ears.

"We left, because we thought our home was safe to return to. There was still some fighting, I think," the man scrunched his brows together, not entirely sure what the official story had become. "But we were alright, and we stayed and grew up.

"Not a day went by that Susetthe didn't mention you at least once, and she missed you, but everyone thought you were just a daydream, an imaginary friend," Gwaine mumbled, looking down in embarrassment. Merlin chuckled lightly, the man hadn't changed, still indignant when he was proven wrong. Though, the Gwaine Merlin remembered would've been a bit more hostile about it and probably at least scowled or rolled his eyes. But this was his sister.

"But she was alright?" Merlin interrupted, unsuccessfully keeping the urgency completely out of his tone. The image in his mind, of little Susetthe curled up sadly in the dirt while other children and people played and whispered, made shame twist his stomach in its fingers. He hadn't wanted her to be lonely.

Gwaine picked up on this, nodding his head. "Yes, yes, we both had friends and played every day, and Susetthe even trained with me and my best friend there, Percival, quite often," Gwaine smirked proudly. The man leaned back slightly, relaxing his arms and shoulders and grinning. There was the Gwaine Merlin knew, and the old man smiled.

"One day, barely a year after we'd returned, though, Percival's mother was telling stories about King Arthur—it's a legend practically every child in England knows," Gwaine explained, and Merlin's spine straightened. "Susetthe was so quiet. She's usually pretty attentive to stories, as you'd know, but...she seemed almost anxious.

"That night when we were supposed to be asleep, she told me that your name's Merlin, and that the stories you always told her were very similar to the ones of King Arthur." Gwaine shrugged, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes as he studied the old man before him. "I told her that it was a common story everyone knew, but she was absolutely certain."

Merlin couldn't help it. His grin split his cheeks and laughter bubbled in his stomach, shaking his shoulders. It was pride, happiness, and just the pure wonder of it all. He was proud of his little Susetthe, so clever and determined and persistent. She had never stopped pushing for answers, or to prove herself right, in Ealdor—to think, there was a moment he had almost disliked that. The chuckles continued, even as moisture began to smear under his eyes and on his cheeks. Laughter or sobs, tears of happiness or sadness, neither man could determine.

"You alright?" Gwaine asked after a moment, his head tilted. Though, he didn't look at Merlin as some crazy old man, but rather with concern. Merlin nodded gently.

"She has always been so intuitive, so stubborn," Merlin murmured. He then met Gwaine's brown eyes and nodded for him to finish up his explanation.

"Half a year ago, our parents died in an accident a few towns away," Gwaine stated simply, though his voice was heavier. Merlin bowed his head in respect. "We stayed in our own village, but Susetthe was distant. Then, out of nowhere, she told me she was leaving, not permanently but with no idea how long. I think she felt she didn't have such deep ties anymore, since our parents are gone and it's just me and her now."

Merlin swallowed, willing himself to stay silent as he listened, despite the parallels. Though, he really should be used to it by now. Reincarnations, he'd read and now witnessed, often led similar lives.

"I really did doubt her—and you—but I felt similar to her. We could leave now, or else just live in the house our parents had left behind when they passed. I didn't think you were real, but it gave us a direction and I figured that once we got here and Susetthe realized you're not here, we could set off somewhere else. But this would at least begin the journey. I apologize for underestimating you, though."

Merlin shrugged, brushing it off.

"So I told her I would come with her, and here we are," Gwaine said, smiling weakly at the lame finish. He shrugged, though he didn't seem nervous. If anything, Merlin thought as he studied the man's face, he'd seen the expression before: going with whatever life took him through, and ready for it. Then the sentence fully caught up with the old man.

"She's here?" he whispered, as though saying it too loudly would destroy the reality. Gwaine nodded, eyes wide.

"We split up, and I may be older and her brother but even I know not to challenge Susetthe very much," he smirked, earning another full, genuine laugh from the old man. "She told me to come to this clearing, though she had to lead me herself halfway."

"And where is she?" Merlin straightened, beginning to ready his body to stand again. His torso was already pointing in the direction he had known their house to be at, but stopped his slow movements when he saw Gwaine's confused frown.

"She said she was going to you."