FIC: One Last Wish

[winter-mod.livejournal.com]

Title: One Last Wish
Author/Artist: ???
Pairing(s): Gen/pre-Merthur (can be read as either)
Prompt: #5: It's a modern Christmas and Merlin's long held wish comes true when Arthur finally returns
Word Count/Art Medium: 1,575
Rating: PG
Contains (Highlight to view): * Merlin being sad until someone special returns *
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: I’m so glad this fest continues, thank you mods!
Summary Centuries in the future, Merlin has given up all hope for Arthur’s return, yet on Christmas Eve he finds himself making a desperate wish.
Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21669604

Merlin stood at his front door and unlocked it wearily. He shook the snow off his boots and stepped inside. A swath of warm air greeted him yet provided little comfort on such a night. He took off his heavy coat and slumped in a lone armchair by the fireplace, eyes quickly flashing gold as he lit the wood mindlessly.

Another year.

Another year passing as slowly as the last, continuously pushing forward— for what?

For the good and happiness of individuals, his mind instantly replied, with his old mantra. That’s what he was still here for, some sort of purpose he could work for even if he couldn’t do much to improve his own happiness, he certainly knew how to do it for others. After all, that’s what he was doing earlier. He always did what he could, helping with his magic, granting wishes and making Christmas miracles(changes). It made all of the waiting feel much better, to have a purpose outside of Arthur, for once. Using his gifts to help others instead of always worrying about being caught and living in fear with every kind gesture like back then.

Though it was always hard. After living so long and knowing so many, every face looked familiar. Every glance another painful reminder of everyone. Not just those in Camelot (though he suspected he longed for them most) but everyone after. Friends, lovers, found family, and their descendants, all lost to the cruel hands of time.

Recently, he had avoided attempts to meet people, he knew how it would all go down. He would meet the cute boy in the coffee shop or the sweet girl at the library and they could become friends or lovers. And if they settled down or not, either way he would have to leave them, before they would leave him.

Anyways, he thought, what would meeting people mean in a couple more decades, or a few more centuries? Why does any of it matter?

He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Enough of that. He forced his mind back on the smiling faces of the past few days. Their joy because of him. Him.

Then Merlin decided to get up and make a meal. He didn’t need to eat to live but the hunger was annoying enough. He took a can of soup out of the cupboard and got out a small pot. He mindlessly pours it in and turns on the stove. He walked over to the window and gazed outside, over the trees and out to the stars.

He thought of all the times he stood there, wishing, wanting, waiting.

Always the same desperate wish. A wish for the return of one man, who was once his everything. But it was nothing more than a futile dream.

What would it matter if Arthur came back now anyways? It was simply too late. Nothing could ever go back to the way it was in Camelot, even without the world’s differences.

What would Arthur think of him now? He was not the secretive servant or the cheeky warlock he once was.

After all Merlin had seen and done now, he was a different man.

Wiser, but not better, alive but not happy, hollow yet full, full of everything he had seen.

He was dragged out of his thoughts by the bubbling of the soup and turned away from the window. He eats quickly and cleans up effortlessly with his magic. He makes a move to the hall to his bedroom, but he doesn’t continue. He feels something strange, something drawing him outside, like the echoes of a long-gone voice. Walking to the entryway, he shrugs on his coat and heads to the door. It feels so right.

He steps outside and the cold rushes at him. Longing to go inside, he wraps his red scarf tighter and trudges onward, down the snowy steps. At the base of them something feels different and he twists his head back to the house, expecting something new. But, as usual, nothing changed. The same old house as always. The same old house he’d owned ever since he built it all those centuries ago.

He had chosen the spot for its proximity to him. He was only a short walk from the lake.

Merlin looks up at the stars again, the trees and land, still as ice around him. From here, in nature, the world makes it look like nothing has changed, that he would see a proud castle beyond those trees, instead of ruins. Til of course, he looks down at his clothes or feels for the device in his pocket.

Through the trees he thinks he can almost gaze upon the frozen lake. Something inside him flutters at the thought, like a flickering candle in a dark room. Something like hope. Like the candles he passed by earlier in windows throughout town. He thought of all the wishes he had seen people make for others, for themselves, all threaded together in his mind. A quilt of wistful dreams.

It burned fiercely in his mind now, the flame refusing to stay hidden any longer. Maybe if he just allowed himself to hope? No. It would do no good, he repeated. Every time he felt like this, it always ended in the same disappointment. He wouldn’t let himself get so caught up in normal, human lives, their desperation, their wishes, their faith… but it was never enough.

Still, Merlin looked back through the trees, spotting a sliver of that lake. Now, his cold mind couldn’t stop his desperate heart from uttering a few words.

“Arthur, I need you.” he whispered. A surprise tear lands on his cheek. He had been numb for so long. But something changed. That closeted hope he tried to suppress leaped out. It made its way through his body to his cold feet.

Before he could even think about it, he was walking to the lake. Then he was running. He moved mindlessly, his feet finding the old path. He broke through the threshold of trees.

He was there.

The world was still, still as the waters of the icy water. The earth felt empty, as empty as the lake now. That flame of hope he had fanned begins to flicker. Merlin’s boots slosh in the soft snow of the bank. He carefully places a foot on the ice, just one foot after the other.

“Arthur!” he calls, voice shaking. He takes another step and call out once more for his king.

Nothing. The flame goes out.

How could I have been this stupid? Stop getting your hopes up, it's pointless as usual.

He’s never coming back.

Merlin steps backward and his foot glances the bank. That’s when he sees it. There’s something under the ice, something glowing.

He feels the ice cracking below his now feather-light feet. But it doesn’t matter, because now there’s something that does.

He races toward the expanse of ice. He stops at the center of the lake, gazing at its brilliant glow, shining up from the water. His smile shines as bright as the ice, finally.

He holds out a hand, “Forbearnan” he says, melting the ice. It begins to thin and crack. A hole appears, a brilliant, shining hole. He drops to his knees hard against the ice, barely containing his excitement and elation. He shoves his hand in the water, reaching for him. The encasing cold burns his hand, but it was the last thing on his mind. He continues, moving his hand wildly below, as deep as he could without falling in. All he finds is icy cold water. A shard of ice pierces his heart momentarily. He wipes his wet hand on his jeans and stares at the water, the cold soaking into his pants as he sits on the ice.

A familiar hand appears, rising out of the lake, reaching for something or someone. A face appears a moment later, such a beautiful face.

“Merlin” he gasps. The man in question unfreezes from his shock. He returns his hands to the water and offers them to the man. To him, to Arthur.

“Merlin, help me out of here, I’m freezing!” he demands. Merlin pulls up and after a few minutes of tugging and pulling, the fallen king stands once more.

Immediately Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur and buries his face in his shoulder, as if one hug will make up for all those lost. The chainmail is cold against his face, but it doesn’t matter, nor does the fact that he’s been holding onto Arthur longer than he should, especially considering he was just in freezing water. Arthur raises his head.

“Uhhh Merlin, I’m a little cold. Can we go inside?” he asks, and Merlin lets go of him, even though he never wants to again.

“And then you’ll explain all this to me.” Arthur continues gesturing to the hole in the ice and Merlin’s clothing.

Merlin laughs, a bright, cheerful laugh. The previous fire of hope blossomed completely overcoming his entire body, filling him with warmth. Nothing seems real, yet everything is as it should be.

His seemingly foolish wish coming true was nothing he could have ever prepared himself for. Nothing he had ever felt compared to this moment.

Merlin knew he would never need another wish again.

They walked back across the ice, hand in hand, side by side, once again.