A/N: The Highlander fusion I couldn't resist.
. . .
The first time Merlin dies, Arthur doesn't hear about it until later. When he does hear about it, he assumes Gwen must be exaggerating.
Not because he thinks it isn't possible – he knows all too well that it is – but because Merlin is giving him only the usual kind of headache, and he knows by now that's not what to expect from the kind of person who can come back from the dead.
Gaius and Gwen must have panicked. That's all there is to it. The flower must have just taken a little longer than expected to start working because here Merlin is, just the same as ever. It's fine.
He starts teaching Merlin the sword anyway, just in case.
Merlin may only be the usual sort of headache, but he can't quite shake the feeling that there's something off about Merlin, and maybe this is what Odin's son had meant about being able to feel the potential in someone who is not quite immortal yet.
If that is the case, Merlin needs to get a lot less hopeless with his sword. Fast.
If that's not the case, Merlin still needs to get a lot less hopeless with his sword, fast, both because Merlin gets into far too many fights for comfort, Game or no Game, and because, frankly, his skills at present are an embarrassment to everyone involved.
People are going to think Arthur's a substandard teacher if this keeps up, and he will absolutely not be having that.
. . .
The first time Arthur dies, he's eighteen. He's grateful for that, later. It lets him hide just how little he's changing for – not a long time. Not in the grand scheme of things.
But long enough.
. . .
The second time Merlin dies, Arthur doesn't hear about it until years later. In his defense, the reason he doesn't know about it at the time is because Arthur is also dying and somewhat preoccupied with how he's going to talk his way out of this one.
The bite of the Questing Beast is supposed to be invariably fatal. He's not sure how he's going to explain it to everyone when he comes gasping back to life a few minutes after succumbing to it, and the poppy Gaius has been giving him for the pain isn't helping him think any.
He doesn't have to explain at all. He could just run.
But that would mean leaving his father without a clear heir, which would throw Camelot into chaos, and more chaos is the last thing Camelot needs. He's been pushing and pushing at his father to arrange a marriage already, but his father still refuses to quite see him as a man, and he's running out of time.
He doesn't know how long it will take for this magic to corrupt him. He's not sure he'll notice if it starts.
But Merlin will notice, and Merlin never hesitates to tell him exactly what he thinks, and Merlin is, currently, being extraordinarily nice, really, so he's probably fine.
Later on, he'll notice Merlin is really only extraordinarily nice when someone is dead, dying, or about to be. Or when Arthur has gone to the quiet place in his head where all the pain is dulled, and he doesn't have to think about all the ways things have gone disastrously wrong.
But that's later.
At the time, he's too busy trying to decide if Gaius will accept being declared a genius for saving his life with a tincture of poppy that they both know full well wouldn't have healed this.
