#future!merlin

'Please, tell me, Merlin: how is Gwen....?'

To say Merlin’s had it easy would be a joke in of itself (and if there’s one thing Merlin knows, it’s how to tell a good joke). Growing up in Ealdor was uneventful, but peaceful, and frankly, Merlin enjoyed his time there. Sure, he could stop time or make candles flame with just his mind, but that was all instinctual to him. So it had to be normal, right?

Wrong.

Merlin isn’t like other magic users. He is magic. He was born with it. Scared that her son would be executed (and would be unable to control his gift) Hunith sent her boy from his country life to the magnificent, albeit dangerous, city of Camelot. 

Which is where he met Arthur Pendragon. A pompous, supercilious, arrogant, pain in the arse. Oh, and he also happened to be the Prince. (Just his luck, right?) Unbeknownst to Merlin, Uther, King of Camelot, had outlawed magic and any of it’s users; punishable by death. Which meant Merlin was forced to live like a shadow. A feeble outline of his true self. He’d have to play the fool. (Though if we’re being honest, Merlin was rather good at that role. But he was more, so much more than that.)

As it turns out, Merlin’s destiny has been written since the dawn of time. He is to protect Arthur at all costs, help the rise of Albion, and be the greatest sorcerer the world has ever known. But no pressure.

Through adventures, wars, trial & error, and a lot of goblets to the head, Merlin and Arthur became something akin to friends. Though neither man will admit it to the other. Merlin needs Arthur and will do absolutely anything to keep him safe. Anything.

For a long time, Arthur was his first and only priority. His destiny was all he had. That and his magic. Merlin felt the crushing weight of the future he was supposed to bring, and truthfully, it was terrifying. For your name to be whispered throughout time, to be held in such high esteem among those of the old religion. It was a hard name to live up to; Emrys. What if he only looked good in the stories? Could he really father a legend?

Could he be the legend?

Somewhere down the line Merlin mastered his magic and proved to everyone (including himself) that he could be Emrys. He’d much rather hide behind sarcasm and a happy-go-lucky smile, but he’s not afraid to let his eyes shine gold if need be. Mixed up in a world of dragons, death, magic, and Arthur, Merlin met Freya; and fell in love. 

Fast forward and Arthur wasn’t Merlin’s only priority anymore. Arthur was King, Albion was in a time of peace, and he knew of Merlin’s magic. (Though he still suspects Arthur isn’t entirely OK with the idea.) Now, his wife, daughter, and two sons were his world. He loved them unconditionally, and if he thought he’d do anything for Arthur, then what’d he’d do for his family is inexplicable.

And then she left him. His Freya. His sweet, pure, beautiful Freya. She always loved the lake, so he took her there, and it’s where she’ll forever remain. Something happened to Merlin after he lost his wife. Call it one death too many, but something broke inside him, and it’s never really healed. He came suffocatingly protective of Hunith, but in direct contradiction, he distanced himself from his children. How he could be the father they deserved when half of him had died? His better half no less. He went back to living like a shadow. 

He feared he’d disappoint them. So instead, he focused on Arthur and his position as Royal Adviser. All the while keeping a protective eye on his children, even when they didn’t suspect he was. The death of Hunith, Balinor, or Philip would be the death of him.

So, obviously, because it was the way Merlin’s life worked, he lost his son. 

The events that followed his daughter’s capture, Balinor’s death, and the war against Cendred are a blur in his mind. Everything is gold. Everything is encompassing fear for his King and children, nauseating worry, and magic. Magic that screamed at him to stop killing, but magic that was forced to bend to his will nonetheless. 

He vowed that night to be a better father. Philip and Hunith deserved that much. He may never heal from the wounds his “destiny” has inflicted upon him, but he can force that smile back on his face and continue taunting his Royal Cabbage-headedness. 

And so he did.

A year has passed since the war and Merlin likes to think he’s more like his old self. Grown and matured, sure, but at least he remembered how to smile. How to laugh like he did when he first came to Camelot, all those years ago.

He will do anything to protect his children. Even Philip, though people seem to think otherwise. There are no words to express his love for them. 

Things have been relatively calm since the war, but Merlin’s sensing magic in the air, and that’s never been a good sign…