Chapter Text
Death is a strange sensation. It begins with an overwhelming surge of pain, and then nothing. Arthur’s death was peaceful, all things considered. By the side of a lake, in the arms of the man he most trusted. He had held on for so long, and though Merlin was determined to save him, Arthur had known that his wound would be fatal. He closed his eyes for the last time with a sense of clarity he had not known in life.
When he opened them again, that clarity was replaced with a dense fog that settled over his brain. He knew he had been dead, and that he had died on the shores of Avalon, but now he stood before the citadel of Camelot. The drawbridge was open, so with no where else to go, he stumbled clumsily into the courtyard.
As he pressed onward, the clouds at the edge of his vision lifted enough for him to notice the crowd of strangely dressed men and women gathered around the castle steps. One woman wore a sleeveless black and red gown with a skirt so wide the people around her were forced to give her a wide berth. Arthur had never seen anything like it. Another woman wore a deep blue dress with some kind of handkerchief covering her nose and mouth. He followed their gaze to the top of the steps where a man stood with a sword on his belt and Arthur’s own crown on his brow. The woman at his side resembled Gwen in a distant way, just as the man could have been mistaken for Arthur from afar, but he was too thin and too tall, and her dress was too tight and too short. Arthur watched as the false king raised his sword and the crowd cheered. “Long live the king!” They said. Had he been dead long enough that Camelot had replaced him? Was Guinevere gone too? And why did this king look so much like Arthur himself. Gwen had not been with child when Arthur passed, so he had left behind no heirs. He stood in shocked silence, contemplating the strange scene before him as the crowd made their way inside the castle. One man in a beige coat and white shirt gave him a small nod of approval and told him “nice cosplay.” Arthur added it to the list of unexplainable things he had witnessed since his miraculous return.
Once the courtyard was mostly deserted, Arthur remained staring at the door the crowd had disappeared behind. The only people remaining seemed to be servants who rushed around setting up tables and picking up discarded clear goblets, but they were dressed just as finely and just as oddly as the guests. Arthur must have stood there just watching for a good long while before he heard a voice behind him shake him out of his stupor. An all too familiar voice.
“Excuse me sir, are you alright? You’ve been standing there a while.” Arthur whipped around so fast that what he saw next might have been a result of dizziness or whiplash. Merlin hadn’t changed a bit. Not his clothes, not his posture, not his bright blue eyes, or raven black hair. As Arthur’s brows shot up to the top of his forehead, Merlin’s furrowed in confusion
“I’m sorry,” he said. The one part of him that seemingly had changed were his manners which have apparently improved significantly. “You look familiar, have we met?”
Arthur’s mouth went dry and all he could manage to say in response was a strangled “Merlin?”
Merlin (who couldn’t possibly be Merlin because Merlin would never forget Arthur but also couldn’t be anyone else because Arthur could never forget him) let out a nervous chuckle. “That’s my name. At least for tonight anyways. You’re a spitting image of Arthur yourself. In fact…” Merlin trailed off as recognition slowly dawned in his eyes. “You couldn’t be.”
Arthur, still uncharacteristically lost for words, repeated “Merlin.” This time more certain.
“Arthur?” Merlin’s voice was strained now. “How is this possible? I watched you—“
“I know.” Arthur found his voice just in time to stop Merlin from saying it. He was still coming to terms with his death and revival himself, he wasn’t ready to hear Merlin bring it up.
“Once and Future King.” Merlin muttered under his breath. Arthur only just heard it. “You absolute dollophead. You just had to come back now didn’t you.” The insult carried no real weight as Merlin sniffed and wiped a stray tear from his cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m working you prat.”
“You most certainly are, now that I’m back,” Arthur tried slipping back into old banter, but it felt stale on his tongue. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your days off but—“
“Centuries.” Merlin said plainly.
“I’m sorry?” Arthur’s tongue went dry and heavy in his mouth. He knew it must have been some time since he passed, but he had assumed months, a few years at most. He couldn’t have been gone for centuries. And here Merlin was: entirely unchanged. “How are you…” alive? The same? Still waiting for him after lifetimes had passed? So many questions sprung to Arthur’s mind yet he voiced none of them. Merlin, for his part, did something entirely unexpected. He pulled Arthur into a tight hug and buried his head in his shoulder.
“I’ve missed you. More than you know.” Tears were welling up in both their eyes now, both of them too distracted in their shock to wipe them away. After what felt like an eternity and a split second all at once, Merlin released him and took a step back. Looking Arthur up and down like it was the first time he had seen him in, well, centuries.
“Right,” he rubbed the tears from his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Unfortunately, serving a long-dead king of legend doesn’t quite pay the bills in the twenty-first century, so I did have to find another job. And I’m currently at it. I have so much to catch you up on, but not nearly enough time right now, so why don’t you go inside and enjoy the ball for the time being. You’ll fit right in, you’re dressed for it. Just don’t let all the costumes go to your head. It’s already big enough and I don’t think we could find a crown a size up for you.”
“I’m going to choose to ignore most of that,” Arthur let out a sharp exhale. “Mainly because I have no idea what half of it means.”
“So nothing new for you then,” Merlin smirked
“Oi, watch it Merlin. I may have only just gotten back but I’m well enough to throw you in the stocks for that.”
“As much as I missed your empty threats, my lord,” Merlin somehow managed to make the title sound like a playful insult. “There are no more stocks. They’re a bit archaic.”
“I’m not sure I like this age anymore.” Arthur took in Merlin’s smug look and hit him round the back of his head. Both for the comment and simply for old times sake.
“Trust me, you’ll love it. At least you’ll love the ball. They all love you in there. They got all dressed up and excited to celebrate Camelot’s legacy.” Merlin looked immensely proud as he spoke. “I’ve been working events with this company for a few years now, but this one was particularly special to me, for obvious reasons. I haven’t been back here in ages. And of course when I finally do come back, so did you.” The corner of Merlin’s lip quirked up to emphasize the sarcasm in his tone.
“Now,” Merlin took a deep breath. “The dance caller should still be running things and I have some tables to set up. Why don’t you go find a dance partner and have some fun. We can talk more after the ball.”
Merlin touched Arthur’s arm lightly with a smile and turned to walk away. Arthur grabbed his wrist at the last moment to ask “Gwen?”
Merlin smiled sadly. “Lived a long and happy life. You would have been proud of the Camelot she ruled over.” And that comfort provided Arthur with the strength he needed to turn from Merlin and walk into the ballroom.