For the Love of Camelot

9. Hope

Something was stirring at the bottom of the lake. For centuries, nothing had disturbed the ancient King that lay beneath the mud, awaiting his time. But now, as the old warlock slept, a body rose. It began its journey slowly, the tides of the deep carrying it up, up into the night, up into the stars. And no one in Caerleon, the small town that had once been the great city of Camelot, was awake to see as The Once and Future King was propelled into the sky, his body glowing with the light of a thousand stars. No one was awake to see as his eyes opened, as his pulse was revived, as his heart beat with a new determination. And as the King drew the first breath since his last, a singular thought wormed its way into his head.

Merlin.

...

The sorcerer awoke with a start. Another dream. The dreams had never stopped. Every night he would dream of Arthur, though tonight was the strangest he could remember. Rolling onto his side, the warlock sighed. He was giving up hope, and he knew it. But even after a thousand years, he still loved Arthur. He had waited for so long, and he would wait into eternity if he had to, but he missed him. He missed their banter, missed the way Arthur would smile at him, missed his King's laugh. He missed the glow in his non-troubled eyes, the touch of his hand, the feeling of being near him... he hadn't felt that way for so long. He hadn't felt much of anything except for never ending grief for so long. He was trapped in life, a life that was a curse, and he couldn't get out.

And so it was on that night that Merlin pulled on his boots and left his flat. He needed some fresh air, he decided, to remind himself that there were more things in life than just Arthur. He would wait, he would wait, he would wait.

...

Merlin recognized the golden glow of magic before he even reached the lake. It spoke to him, caressing him with a thousand voices, all which whispered of his King, his love, his Arthur. The warlock picked up his pace. It couldn't be, but it was, but this was just a dream...

He was running now as the lake came into view. A body, Arthur's body, hovered above the lake, perfectly still and immobilized but for his eyes, his golden, golden eyes, and that didn't make any sense, but this was just a dream. But it didn't matter if it was a dream, because he was sobbing anyway, and Arthur had such a confused expression on his face, and then the magic left him.

The king fell into the lake, his eyes returning to their magnificent blue, his mouth opening a split second before he hit the water. And then everything was silent. Merlin stood there, paralyzed, not knowing for sure what he had just witnessed but knowing now that it was real, it was so very real, and...

Was Arthur dead?

No. He hadn't waited all this time just to watch his King die again. Without a second thought Merlin threw himself into the lake, swimming with all his might to the place where Arthur had disappeared. Arthur couldn't be dead. Not again. Not again...

Merlin gasped for air as tears streamed down his face. There was no sign of Arthur. The lake was clear, but there was no hint of shining armour beneath its waters. Merlin screamed, the sound of a thousand years of grief.

And then he dove.

He dove down as deep as he could, using his magic to propel him to the bottom of the lake, and scrabbled at the mud, looking for something, anything to tell him Arthur was here. Maybe he had fallen below the mud. Maybe he had fallen with such force he was buried here, and maybe he couldn't breathe, and if he couldn't breathe, he would die, and if he died...

Merlin froze as two hands grabbed ahold of his shoulders, pulling him into a warm embrace. It seemed so impossible, after all this time...

Though it is physically impossible to cry underwater, but Merlin's body shook with sobs before the two men had risen to the surface. Arthur. He'd waited so long. Arthur. As their heads rose above the lake, Merlin swore.

"Dammit, Arthur. Dammit." The sorcerer twisted to face his king and saw his face, so real, so pure that he couldn't help but choke on his own words. "What... what took you so long?" Then, with hesitation, "Is it really you? Are you... are you really here?" Merlin touched Arthur's face, and it felt so real, but it could be a trick, it could be cruel magic, it could be a dream.

"Merlin." Tears were welling up in Arthur's eyes as he spoke. "I'm so, so sorry, Merlin." Merlin couldn't speak, could only bury his face in Arthur's chest as relief flowed through him at hearing Arthur speak. "I love you, Merlin. I love you. I'm so sorry."

"Don't ever do that again, you clotpole." Merlin smiled into Arthur's chest as tears trickled down his delicate cheeks. Arthur was here, he was truly here. And everything was finally right with the world. Arthur kissed the top of his sorcerer's head.

"I won't."

"Promise?" He knew it was a foolish thing to say, but he couldn't lose Arthur again, not after everything, not with how much he loved him, how much he'd always loved him.

"Promise." Arthur lifted Merlin's head and looked into the sorcerer's eyes with such love, such honesty that Merlin couldn't help but believe it, for Arthur's promise was true. They were forever.

And so they swam back to the shore as the sun rose above the lake of Avalon. It was the dawn of a new age, for Arthur Pendragon was finally returned.