It's been a week since Arthur died.
Merlin hasn't said a word since Kilgharrah flew away.
He used to sing before he came to Camelot. His mother always told him it was beautiful. He stopped as soon as he arrived in the city, though. For one thing, he was afraid Arthur would make fun.
For another, if he let his mind drift while he sang, the words had a tendency to stop being harmless and drift into magic.
He could sing now. Magic is legal and there is no Arthur to make fun.
He keeps his mouth shut and tries not to cry.
It's been a month since Arthur died.
Everyone's trying to get him to talk. The knights, the few of them that are left, try to tease or trick or scare him into it. Gwen begs him. Gaius tries to fix a problem that was never medically induced in the first place.
Merlin thinks it's good for them to have a project.
He used to talk constantly. He babbled excuses, rambled out stories, asked questions unexpectedly.
He doesn't need excuses now, and no one knows the answer to the only question that matters.
It's been a year since Arthur died.
People accept him now as a silent sorcerer lurking in the background. He never corrects the name.
He used to shout spells all the time. Now the magic comes to Emrys easily, without a word, just like it always should have. It is easy, now that it no longer matters.
He's not sure who he blames for this, Destiny or Magic or himself, but whoever it is, he hates them fiercely.
He uses his magic. But he never says a word.
It's been ten years since Arthur died.
Gaius is dying.
They all tell him to say something. That it will comfort the dying man.
None of them seem to realize that Merlin has been half dead for ten years now and is too weak to say a word.
He is, after all, only half of a whole.
He finds Khilgharrah the hard way and sits with him as he dies. The dragon breathes out something that sounds like a prophecy as he dies. Merlin records it meticulously and heads back to Camelot.
He hasn't breathed a single word of the Dragon Tongue.
It's been a hundred years since Arthur died.
No one cares now whether he speaks or not.
Merlin keeps up a running commentary in his head of what Arthur would say to this or that. Sometimes Arthur asks for his opinion.
Merlin's never sure what to say to him anymore.
It's been a thousand years since Arthur died.
Then that clock stops, and suddenly it's been one minute since he came back.
Arthur pulls back from hugging him with that laughing grin still on his face. He asks questions. So many questions.
Merlin is smiling too. When Arthur pauses for breath, Merlin opens his mouth to answer them.
It's been a thousand years since he said a word. All his protesting vocal cords can manage is a croak that scrapes his throat raw.
A/N: I'm tempted to write a follow up chapter of Arthur helping Merlin get his voice back. There aren't enough "Arthur returns and takes care of Merlin" fics.
Although if you know of a good one, feel free to recommend it in a comment.
Currently I've got something like six requests for fics and two ideas of my own bouncing around, but none of them are clicking at the moment, and I've learned the hard way not to try and force it. Prompts would be welcome, but I can't guarantee anything.
