"It's destiny, my love."

Merlin nearly brushes it off—there are plenty of ordinary people named Athena these days, just as there are plenty named Arthur—but there’s a peculiar, ancient light in her eyes. The same light he sees in his own.

Merlin takes her hand. “My…lady?”

Her smile grows. “There’s no need for that; I don’t belong to your pantheon. Truthfully, I almost never make my way up here—respect for each other’s domains is crucial in maintaining peace, after all. We had hoped you’d visit Greece one day.”

She examines him, eyes sharp. “But you haven’t left Albion in a thousand years. In fact, you’ve barely left this town.”

She gestures to a banner hung over the information desk: SIGN UP FOR CAMLAD PUBLIC LIBRARY’S ANNUAL BOOKMARK CONTEST!

Merlin frowns, unsure if she means him harm. “We?”

Athena raises her eyebrows as though the answer is obvious. Then again, to a goddess of wisdom, it probably is. “The Greek gods. More so Aphrodite, though I believe Calliope has an interest in it as well. I would have preferred not to have come at all, but I was in the area, and, well…Aphrodite’s presence would likely be too intense for you to bear.”

Merlin blinks, mind racing and stuttering in intervals.

“I—what? An interest in what?”

“You and Arthur,” she explains slowly. “We meant to do this sooner, but the last few centuries were very busy and we lost track of time.”

Athena checks her watch, a glimmering golden band with a creamy face resembling a barn owl. “Even now, I’m late for a few protests.”

She looks at him, wearing that expectant look once more. “We wondered if you might like to place a constellation in the sky for Arthur.”

Her words strike at his heart, sending it rattling against his ribs.

Merlin sucks in a breath and clutches his books close to his chest. He doesn’t know what to say. He can barely fathom the idea.

“You said,” he manages, “this isn’t your domain. So how do you know about—“

“Aphrodite was bedridden for a century or so with the effects of your heartbreak after his death,” Athena says simply, as though it isn’t a gut punch. “Your heart has—oh, what was it.”

Merlin watches in disbelief as she fishes a neatly folded slip of paper from her bag.

“Your heart has yet to recover,” she reads. “I am sorry I cannot make you this offer in person, Emrys. My presence can deeply wound those who have lost a great love. For you, a man who lost not only Arthur but every single loved one and his home as well, I did not wish to risk exposing you. Athena is in the U.K. on protest business and for a meeting with representative deities from Europe. I asked her to pop by. I thought you would take to her much better.”

Athena re-folds the note and places it back in her bag.

Merlin’s heart is hammering; he can feel his hands start to tremble. He clenches them tighter around the books.

“Aphrodite…she could feel—“

Athena nods.

The thought of a goddess being bedridden by his heartbreak hurts. There’s no other word for it. He would have preferred to suffer that alone.

And Arthur in the stars. Scientists have discovered a new constellation which they are calling King Arthur five billion lightyears away from Earth, humanity, Wales, Camelot, Merlin—

“No.”

Athena doesn’t so much as blink. “No?”

“He’s coming back,” Merlin says, voice too loud in the silent library. “He doesn’t need to be remembered in the stars because he’s coming back.”

Athena assesses him, grey eyes sharp, and Merlin realises the world had frozen around them. A book hovers midair on its way to the returns chute; two women’s mouths are half open mid-discussion over a history volume.

Merlin looks back at Athena. A soft glow emanates from her skin, and Merlin can see the faint golden outline of a helm over her face.

“Very well,” she says finally, and Merlin squeezes his eyes shut as the glow grows.

“Actually,” he hears, “would you care to join me?”

Merlin peeks an eye open. Athena is extending a hand to him.

“The council could use your input,” she says. “They’d be very honoured by the presence of the famous Emrys.”

Merlin frowns.

“But I can see you won’t,” she says.

His brow pinches in question. “My lady?”

“You cannot take on our role yet,” Athena hums. “For the same reason you will not put Arthur in the stars.”

Merlin shuts his eyes just before the glow becomes bright enough to burn.

Voices hum, pages rustle.

“Looking for something specific, love?”

Merlin startles. A librarian in a fluffy green cardigan is looking at him expectantly.

“Er, no, I— just browsing,” he stammers, and turns on his heel toward the door.

“Course, love,” she says. “Astronomy section’s that way.”

When he spins around, she’s gone.