#bbcs merlin

Merlin but Merlin doesn’t think Arthur is real after he comes back. He forever thinks it’s not the real Arthur. He thinks his grief created him, and maybe he’s right.

Arthur still loves him. Arthur takes care of him until his dying days, and watches it all start again. Merlin’s king, shushing him to sleep when he’s young, protecting him.

The stars and planets align every hundred years or so. When Merlin is just like he was in the beginning, smiles and gentleness, warmth and hopefulness. Despite remembering everything every second he’s alive, he experiences his memories in dreams in the night. Some of them, as he grows into their story, wake him up screaming.

But Arthur is always there to calm him. To hold his hand, wipe his tears. Remind him it’s all in the past.

And then he meets the age he was when Arthur died. It’s always the years when the planets are aligning, the stars shining brighter- some cosmic event shifting the universe as their souls meet the perfect balance. And for a few years they kiss, they love, they do what they weren’t allowed.

And then Merlin ages again. He moves, he changes, but Arthur’s the same. Arthur is frozen, no matter what he is the same.

Merlin is fire, Arthur is ice. That’s how it has to be.

Merlin gets to be older, wrinkles, creaky knees, white hair.

“Arthur. You’re beautiful…”

“So are you.”

“I’m not-“

“So. Are. You. And you’re mine. Always and forever Merlin.”

“…. And you are mine.”

Maybe one day the gods grant Arthur age- maybe they save the world and maybe one day the stars align and they keep aligning. They are granted the gift of growing old together, of a sweet, soft death, together in their sleep.

Gravestones that lean on each other more and more as the years go by- in the yard of the house they bought- with the kids they adopted when they realized Arthur was aging, raising their own families.

Maybe they can finally rest. They can see their friends, loved ones, once they die. Maybe there are no more tears.