Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Arthur died.

He failed.

His paranoia and fear controlled his every action. Perhaps if he trusted Arthur more, if he questioned Mordret's fate, he could've prevented it.

But no. He did not.

Coward.

Aithusa curled up against him in mourning and comfort. The poor child lost her loved one as well. His fault, that one.

He would not fail her again. He'll protect her and fight for her.

Merlin returned to Camelot with Aithusa to find not much changing.

Magic remained outlawed, declared too deceitful and unknown by those whom cowered in fear of what they couldn't conquer by sheer force.

Gwen suggested he relocate to the highest tower, a forgotten place. Where the small dragon could sleep undeterred. Not interacting with outsiders, as to not reveal his true self. But still assisting with any matter that needed his attention. The knights agreed with her claim. To protect him.

He cried that night, mourning his friend, his king, what might've been if he were not as afraid. Perhaps if he took that risk, Camelot would have grown into more.

Perhaps, but no more.

Humans feared what they could not understand, or control. Magic had no home in Camelot. And it sensed that. Druids migrated across the seas, seeking a new home for themselves. Knowing Albion would never accept them again as it once did. The few remaining sorcerers didn't bother plaguing the lands in vengeance, or, mourning.

The dragon left to die peacefully somewhere far away, leaving Merlin alone. But he did not care for it.

He stayed.

Merlin stayed by Gwen's side till she died of old age. Wishing her happiness in her Afterlife.

He stayed to guide her children from the shadows. The memory of a certain prat ached more profusely during that time.

He stayed as he watched his friends married, became parents and grew old. Gwaine fathered two lovely girls, naming Merlin the godfather.

He stayed by their side as their drew their last breath.

He stayed as he witnessed his mother withering away.

He stayed as Gaius got too old to stand, passing away silently in his sleep.

Whilst he remained the same.

Not aging, no marriage, no children.

How could he bare to watch his wife grow old without him? Too cruel, for both of them.

He stayed till Camelot fell. And after, he had nowhere to be. So he stayed, left behind. Forgotten.

Not once straying far from his tower.

Years passed.

Aithusa refused to wake up. Before the old dragon departed, he explained that the girl needed rest to heal. And she would awoken when she felt ready.

Merlin remained unmoving, too lost in his grief to notice time slipping by.

His little room gathered dust, spiders and other critters made themselves at home, the tiny dragon sleeping in his bed, still healing.

He didn't care. Not about the stench, not about the mess, not anything.

He lost.

He sacrificed everything, his very being. For a promised future. One where hiding would be unnecessary, where he could be free. But that promise was broken. He broke it. He did.

Now he had nothing.

He questioned if Aithusa would even bother waking to this wretched world.

Agonized by long forgotten hunger, his stomach lost its strength to growl. His appetite had long faded. The very thought of eating, tasting something other than air dust discusted him to no end. How dare he entertain the thought of a meal, when those he should've protected had long since parished?

How could he be so selfish? ... How?

The faces of his loved blurred, an impenetrable fog hid them from him. A dull numbness settled deep in his bones.

Numb to the overwhelming feeling of loss, Merlin indulged in chastising himself every so often. 

Perhaps isolation wasn't a good place for his self hatred to stew, but what difference would it make?

Why bother innocent people with problems that he brought upon himself?

Over time, his senses dulled. His will crumbled. And he stopped mourning.

A young prince found him lounging by the window broken and refusing to heal, staring blankly at the sky.

He did not show any indication of noticing the new presence. The prince gently caressed him away from the window, allowing him to fully observe the man.

The prince kept speaking but Merlin could barely comprehend the words. It was all just noise to him. Of course, this hadn't bothered him before but something about this man felt different.

Alive. Free.

Unchaned.

He found himself wanting to understand, to know what was being said. He tried. Oh, how he tried to, but nothing came of his efforts.

Was it really hopeless? Did he finally shatter completely?

Why?

Why now?

A single tear streamed down his face.

Huh.

Would the world really be so cruel?

A sudden burning sensation engulfed his ears and eyes. A broken scream tore from his aching throat. When the sensation subsided, he almost fell head first off the chair when warm arms caught him, steadying him.

How long had it been since he had physical contact with somebody?

Somehow managing the will power, Merlin glanced up at his visitor.

Tall, white haired, lean, but toned. And he had deep grey eyes, too deep. One could drown in them forever ever. And his ears were pointed.

There was something else. Merlin could preceive him. How? The tall man smiled.

"Is that better?"

He could hear him? It clicked. Magic. This man had used magic. Did magic return whilst he was wallowing in his self loathing?

Merlin merely nodded in response to the man's earlier question.

"I am Eirlys Ahyan, Crown Prince of Ayaru." The man introduced. The man–Eirlys tilted his head slightly —before nodding to himself?—a small smile tugged at his lips.

"Do you perhaps know what a True Immortal is?" He inquired. Merlin shook his head.

This prince shared his story, explaining about his long live span, calling himself a True Immortal and claiming Merlin the same. Merlin felt perplexed. He was not the only one? There were other beings similar to him?

Why had no one told him? Could his life have been different if he grew along his kind? Perhaps not. These True Immortals kept to themselves, apparently.

"What do they call you, friend?" Eirlys implored. The warlock contemplated his answer. Should he lie, or tell him it's Emrys? But why did he need to do that? Camelot was gone. There were none to remember him and fear his name. He doubted this prince would fear him, even if he knew. No, Eirlys deserved honesty.

"...Mer...Merlin.." He rasped barely above a whisper, his throat aching and sore from all the neglect. His name, being given to him by his mother was one thing he refused to forget.

Fortunately, Eirlys heard him just alright. But to ease the pain, the prince spoke to him mind to mind. Merlin was pleasantly surprised that Eirlys possessed this talent, until he realized why he utilized it now.

The prince sat next to him, waiting patiently, as if he had all the time in the world, he probably did. Merlin stalled for what seemed to be hours before he hesitantly began speaking.

And when he began, the words would not cease to stop. His deepest, darkest fears and thoughts came pouring out with no chance of reprieve. Tears flowed freely as he recounted a past he was sure he'd buried as deep as the ocean floor. He'd been wrong. He only felt numb temporarily. A truly horrifying discovery.

Of course, he remembered little of his actual history and more of the pain he endured.

The prince kept silent as he listened, not interrupting, not judging. But simply listening.

How Merlin had longed for someone anyone to just listen. It felt liberating. When he finally finished his story, Eirlys stood tall ... and outstretched his hand.

"Truly, a fascinating tale. Your devotion knows no bounds." He acknowledged. Merlin was confused about the placement of his hand, did the prince want him to take it?

Eirlys remained unfazed by his lack of response and continued.

"Devote yourself to me instead."

Merlin blinked.

What?

Eirlys' grin stretched across his face, very widely. Many would think it disturbing, but Merlin had long forgotten what normal appeared to be.

"Your boy king has long passed, Camelot has fallen. Why obey a forgotten destiny, when you could obey me." 

Merlin stared. Because, he was right. There were no Camelot to return too. He barely remembered their appearance, much less their voice. Why must he be left behind? He swallowed hard.

Staring at the still waiting hand, he came to a decision at that moment. He will choose for himself, the life he wants to live.

"I am yours to command."

The warlock gathered all will power to command his own hand. When his fingers locked with Eirlys', he felt the threads of the magic binding weaving itself together.

Proclaiming Merlin as prince Eirlys' devoted servant. A binding contract so in depth, only an explicit verbal acceptance between both parties could sever it.

Merlin chose this, there was no turning back. He glanced at Aithusa, silently vowing to prepare a safer future for her. Be the guardian she deserved.

Leaving his hollowed self behind, he finally found solace. 

Chapter Text

The first thing Arthur noticed as he reached consciousness was the soft ground beneath him. The second being the warmth of sunlight he felt as he opened his eyes. The third, of course, he was currently laying outside in a forest with other people—if the noise of them waking up was anything to go by—his people.

Thankfully.

Arthur groaned when he finally sat up. His eyes narrowed as they searched. His knights were here, Guinevere awoke next to him and another figure, shrouded in a cloak sat father away from the group.

"Guinevere, are you hurt?" Looking after his queen took priority over all else.

"Of course." She smiled reassuringly.

Knowing she spoke truth, Arthur turned his attention to his men. Scanning their bodies for injuries, his shoulders unintentionally relaxed when he found none.

"Sire, are you alright?" Sir Leon inquired, having already stood. The king gratefully took his offered hand to help him stand and nodded. Sir Elyan moved to help his sister.

All Arthur's men were accounted for, seemingly unharmed. Relieved, Arthur observed the surrounding forest.

The trees seemingly reached the skies. The colors blended spectacularly together, vibrant and impossible to ignore, glowing with unseen life. The grounds decorated with outgrown roots, wildflowers and fallen leaves.

Moss covered certain corners like a soft green blanket, indicating that it rained frequently.

Small birds flew overhead, unafraid of their natural predators, singing sweetly. They were evidently dancing with the wind, sunlight filtered through a vibrant green canopy.

The entirety of the forest hummed with life.

This place felt more lively than anything he'd ever encountered, the wind a gentle breeze. The sky felt joyful, contented, somehow. Even the spot where Arthur woke remained undisturbed.

This forest was not fimilar to him.

Oddly, he felt as though he were an unwelcomed guest, interrupting the tranquility of it all. An outsider.

But something else bothered him more.

Something felt wrong.

What could it be?

Sir Gwaine suddenly spoke up.

"Merlin appears to be missing."

Ah.

Now he knew.

Arthur realized that, yes, Merlin was not among them. His man-servant had not strayed too far from him since his employment for too long. Now Arthur worried.

Had something happened to Merlin?

"I hope Merlin is safe. I worry something terrible has happened to him." Guinevere muttered, softly.

"If anyone could thrive in a place such as this, it would be Merlin. After all, he serves the king." Leon quickly interjected, perhaps not wanting to upset his queen with unnecessary stress.

But his words did little to dispel his own concern. Merlin did follow him into perilous danger countless times over the course that he'd known him. No other servant was that eager to stay by their Master's side. Arthur did call him a fool on several occasions, but truthfully his loyalty brought certain warmth to his heart.

Though, Arthur could hardly say he knew much about his servant. The boy rarely spoke of his own life. Arthur probably would not have known about Merlin's mother if the woman hadn't come to Camelot begging for help.

The one who knew Merlin best was perhaps Gwaine. They spent most of their free time together. Arthur was no fool, he understood that the man only stayed in Camelot because of Merlin. If Merlin left, Gwaine wouldn't be far behind.

Same with Lancelot, before he died. That man dreamt of becoming a knight his whole life, but he would've abandoned his dreams if Merlin so wished. Perhaps Arthur should be furious that his some of his knights valued his servant more than him, but he was honestly more glad the boy had people in his corner.

But Arthur could not afford to be unfocused during this time. Whilst Merlin's safety was a cause for concern, his priority should be figuring out how they appeared here.

His eyes landed on the unfamiliar figure, separated from the rest of them. Perhaps they knew more of the situation. Arthur cleared his throat.

"You there, do you perhaps know what happened to us?" The others turned their attention to the stranger.

Said stranger slowly turned around, removing their hood. Gasps filled the air. All knights drew their swords, moving to a defensive position. Arthur stood infront of Guinevere, shielding her with all he had.

Standing infront of them, was Morgana. Looking utterly disheveled. She cracked a conniving smile.

"What an unexpected reunion, brother."

Chapter Text

Arthur didn't hesitate to shield Guinevere from his half sister's site. The knights moved to protect their king and queen, all of their swords drawn, ready for any surprises. Morgana scoffed, muttering something incoherent under her breath. Arthur didn't bother trying to decipher her words as he came to the conclusion that she was the reason for them waking up was here.

"Tell me, Morgana. What did you wish to accomplish by abducting us?" Arthur questioned, not understanding her motive.

Morgana raised an eyebrow. Sudden broken laughter startled everyone out of their confusion. Replaced with wariness and alarm. No one knew when Morgana would use her magic, and none fancied  being her chosen target.

She already chose her target.

Arthur tensed.

A foreboding feeling creeping up his spine.

Merlin.

The man-servant was nowhere to be found. Had Morgana done something to him? Surely, she wouldn't dare? Merlin was her friend, once. But of course, so was Guinevere, yet she betrayed her with little thought.

Arthur wanted to demand answers that very moment. It took all his will power to refrain from jumping her.

Merlin remained important, yes.

But Arthur had to prioritize his queen and knights above all else right now. All he could do was grit his teeth to keep from spitting questions at Morgana.

Logically, they were no match against Morgana magically. But he couldn't spiral about that. He was captured by her, his wife was captured. As well, as his knights. He was thankful that Merlin wasn't here. 

But what if Morgana took him as some twisted revenge? What if he was somewhere locked up, being tormented?

Gwaine on the other hand was not known for his subtlety, nor restraint. He stormed forward with fury burning in his gaze, catching the others off-guard at his sudden movements. The edge of his sword nearly grazed Morgana's throat, startling her.

Strange.

"Tell me where you hid Merlin, you wench. And perhaps I'll allow you to keep your head." Gwaine snarled.

Never before had Arthur seen his knight that angry. Gwaine brought humor everywhere he went, he never took anything seriously.

...

Except ... when it concerned Merlin's safety. Gwaine had stood by Merlin as long as Arthur had known him.

Arthur remembered when they were celebrating one night, after another successful patrol, Merlin had a rare night off after he fell asleep on his feet the earlier afternoon. Arthur scolded him but truthfully, he worried for his friend. 

That night, Gwaine drank more than normal, consuming as much as the finery wine as he could. Others felt concerned and tried to intervene, only for Gwaine to drunkenly announce that his intake was much higher before he was knighted.

Arthur realized that his knight indulged himself, because Merlin wasn't there. Normally that should not bother him. But it did. The entirety of that remaining night.

And so, Arthur started paying attention.

He noticed some things.

Gwaine protected Merlin with the fierceness of an older sibling. That much was understandable. But something else to this day still bothered Arthur.

Mordret.

That boy lit up whenever Merlin glanced at him. He listened very intently to every word Merlin uttered. He subconsciously stood in attention when Merlin entered a room. 

A child wanting attention from his teacher. A student craving praise from his Master.

Mordret was an excellent knight, never failing to complete his duties, not complaining about his tasks. Arthur praised him regularly. But a single nod from Merlin, and the boy nearly danced in excitement.

Arthur did not understand why, but he wasn't in a position to dwell on the Merlin situation at the moment.

"Merlin is missing ...?" Her brows furrowed. Seeming genuinely distraught about the information, before visibly composing herself.

"How should I know?" She inquired.

"We all woke up here, yet Merlin's the only one gone. And as far as I'm aware, you're the only sorceress here!" Gwaine barked.

"I have no need for Merlin," She paused, glancing around before continuing. "I'll have you know that I had no part in this scheme."

Now it was Arthur's turn to snap.

"Do not lie, Morgana. Has magic corrupted you so deeply, you cannot admit your faults?"

"You're one to talk. You blame magic for everything. Yet you use it for your own gain, it's useful as long as you reap all the benefits. But we must pay for being whom we are!" Morgana fumed.

Arthur stepped forward, the knights—including Gwaine—retreated to Guinevere, securing her safety. If Arthur had a clear head, he'd see that arguing with the woman whom he used to love as sister was futile, but Merlin wasn't there to calm his racing thoughts at the moment.

"You're out of your mind! You betrayed my–our–father for some sorceress claiming to be your sister! Do you have any idea how many innocents died at your hand!? Do you care?!" Arthur roared. His anger boiling up.

Before it could escalate any further a piercing shriek penetrated the forest, shaking the trees, everyone subconsciously froze. Not daring to breathe too loud. For fear of drawing its attention.

A beats of silence passed.

Guinevere broke it. "What was that?" She inquired softly.

 "A monster occupying these lands, perhaps. We must have drawn its attention." Leon guessed, his brows furrowed.

Arthur sighed.

His anger subsiding, temporarily. Though his first knight did not voice it aloud, Arthur knew his outburst probably attracted the monster.

"Perhaps, Morgana spoke truth." Guinevere carefully suggested.

Everyone turned to her, bewildered. Their own thoughts clearly written on their faces. But his queen stood her ground and repeated her 

"We're currently not in Camelot, that much must be obvious. If we were to battle here, it could give the owner of these lands permission to go to war with us." She theorized, quite confidently.

Arthur's eye twitched.

"We should abide by the queen's words, Sire. Battling here would endanger us all." Mordret implored.

As much as Arthur wanted to argue, they were right. A quick glance towards Morgana confirmed that she too, thought of this. He sighed.

"Alright then."

Morgana whipped her head to him so suddenly, Arthur worried for a moment that it might've cracked, before composing himself.

"Fine." She snapped.

"Fine." He echoed, clenching his fist.

All knights reluctantly sheathed their swords. Gwaine glared at Morgana, suspicion not fading from his eyes. But he kept quiet about his opinions.

Arthur did not trust Morgana either, but Guinevere was right. If the situation did escalate further, there was a good chance that whomever ruled this land would seek a war as retribution.

All of Arthur's forces were focused on protecting Camelot from Morgana, they did not have the resources for a second war.

And so they went, begrudgingly tolerating each other for the time being.

Reaching a village was remarkably easy. Not that far from where they woke up, right on the outskirts of the forest. The journey to said village, could only be described as uncomfortable. No one said anything to anyone. The tension was practically tangible.

Gwaine kept glaring daggers at Morgana, Mordret had to walk between them so as to prevent the usually humorous knight from strangling the woman. Percival also stayed close, ready to grab Gwaine at ay second.

Leon and Elyan flanked both Arthur and Guinevere, wary of any stunts Morgana might pull.

When they finally entered the village, their feet froze when they caught the site of the surrounding villagers who stopped to stare at them.

Pointed ears. Vibrant eyes, sparkling with specks of gold in the irises. Hair long and utterly shining in the sunlight. Their skin, flawless. No remnants of hard labor lingering near them. They wore unknown unique fabrics, sown to perfection fitting their bodies spectacularly.

Even the houses appeared perfectly built, as if someone crafted them without touching them.

Arthur had never before encountered something like this, and he knew in that moment that those people weren't human.

Arthur's hand flew to pommel of his sword, and he gritted his teeth. His knights followed his movements, readying for the battle that would inevitably happen. Morgana stood to the side, shocked into silence.

"Humans." One villager—a tall, middle aged man with brown hair and eyes—uttered.

One after another the creatures—those were not human beings—started murmuring among themselves.

"What are humans doing here?"

"How are they here?"

"Those filthy humans, they were in our forest!"

"The Enchanted Forest?!"

"Why would the Spirits allow them entry?"

"Does this mean war!?"

"Did we offend the gods?!"

"By the gods, I pray we didn't!!"

"What are those ugly things, Mama?"

"Do not let your children near them!!"

" I'll skin them before they touch my baby!!!"

The voices grew louder. Drawing the attention of others. More and more creatures gathered out of curiosity, then surprise, then disgust.

Arthur and company back away a few steps, Morgana on the other hand was still frozen stiff in her shock.

"What is happening over here?" An oddly fimilar voice cut through the crowd.

The creatures stepped aside as a—man?— another creature came into view. This one wore dark purple robes made from a more refined fabric than the others. Wearing a black leather belt and silver jewelry.

A magnificent silver ornament with special engravings adorned its head, keeping its braided black hair in place. Its eyes were a fimilar blue with, of course, the gold specks in the irises. It barely glanced at Arthur and company before turning to the rest of the creatures.

"How did these humans arrive here?" It inquired. Something about that voice and those eyes were painfully fimilar to Arthur.

"They came from the Enchanted Forest M'Lord." The same creature whom first uttered the word human earlier informed it.

"Ah, return to your work. It shall be delt with." The lord creature ordered with clear authority.

The other creatures followed its will without any resistance, continuing on with its daily routine.

The creature, addressed as M'lord turned its full gaze to them. And it was those piercing eyes that made Arthur realize why the creature's voice and eye color was so fimilar.

From the sounds of gasps echoing throughout the group, the rest came the realization as well.

The one standing infront of them, exuding pure power, gazing at them indifferently ... was ...

Merlin.

The thing—Merlin—opened his mouth and asked something that threatened to tear a heart out, 

"Who are you?"

Arthur felt as if his heart could crack from that question alone.

Merlin doesn't remember me.