a Merlin side blog

And he brims with questions. It feels like living with a toddler. He asks Merlin random things about his life, such as:

“Did you travel?”

“Did you ever marry? Have children?”

“How do you earn a living?”

“Why Brighton?”

To which Merlin replies:

“Some. Never went very far.”

“No.”

“I don’t have to earn a living.”

“I just liked it, I guess. I've lived in worse places.”

Sometimes, Lesley fills in the gaps in Merlin's answers:

“He's never been on a plane. He's afraid of flying.”

(“Afraid of flying on planes,” Merlin scoffs, because in his entire life he's never heard of a dragon crashing into the side of a mountain.

“What's a plane?” Arthur asks.)

“He's such a grumpy old man, no one would marry him.”

“It's true. He's filthy rich.” (This she adds at Arthur's unconvinced look, which is a bit insulting, considering he didn't need any persuading to believe no one ever found Merlin a suitable match in fifteen hundred years.)

Or, “He said he ‘grew weary of London’. I think he thought being by the seaside would cure him of his melancholy. Incredibly Victorian of him, if you ask me.”

(“I'm not melancholy,” Merlin protests.

“Victorian?” Arthur says.)

Arthur has lots of questions about science and technology that even Merlin doesn’t know the answers to. After a while, Merlin has to tell him to just accept that some things work even if he doesn’t understand how, which doesn’t do much to dispel Arthur's notion that magic is involved, somehow.

Sporadically, Arthur asks about Camelot. The aftermath of the battle. What happened to the people they both used to know. What happened to his kingdom.

“Do you ever miss it?”

“Sometimes. Some things. I don't…” Merlin sighs. “It’s been such a long time, Arthur. I can’t say I remember it all that well.”

Arthur doesn’t mention Gwen much, but now and then he stares off into the distance with a sad look on his face, and Merlin knows he must be thinking about her, because he’s seen that kicked puppy expression before.

“You said she lived a long life,” Arthur says one night, while they’re both in bed, waiting to fall asleep, and Merlin doesn’t need to ask who he means by ‘she’. “But was she happy?”

She was in pieces after you died, Merlin thinks, but she learnt to live with her grief. Eventually it just becomes part of you, and then you’re mostly okay, when you don’t think about it too much. I think there were times when she was happy. I hope so. I don’t think she ever stopped missing you, though. A lifetime isn’t enough. I’ve had centuries and I didn’t manage.