Chapter Text
ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
Since moving to Camelot, Merlin never gave his birthday much thought. He was too busy running around after Arthur to even remember when his birthday came around. When he did remember, it was because Gaius or his mother would send him gifts or a letter, which he kept in a small wooden box under his bed when he was homesick.
Only Lancelot had ever asked about his birthday, and he appreciated every thoughtful sentiment but always told him it wasn’t necessary. To Merlin, his birthday was something that didn’t require a large party or gifts or even a big fuss in general. His birthday was just a reminder of how old he’s getting – or lack thereof? Immortality is a doozy.
In short, Merlin never saw the appeal of birthdays. He celebrated Arthur’s because it was a kingdom-wide affair, and he celebrated the knights’ birthdays because Arthur insists upon it. Gwen and Morgana’s birthdays are fun because they insist upon planning everything themselves and all Merlin has to do is show up – of course he brings a thoughtful letter and a small present but that was just a nice gesture, and Merlin loved doing nice gestures for his friends.
One year, however, Arthur intercepted one of his mother’s letters by accident and when he found out it was Merlin’s birthday, the latter got a long scolding for not mentioning it sooner. Since then, Arthur declared it a national holiday and Merlin was forced to celebrate his birthday much like a royal would.
But…
Merlin just wasn’t aware of how lonely his birthday was until he was forced to live through them without company.
ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
1500 Years After Arthur’s Death
A lot has changed since Merlin was floating Arthur over the Lake of Avalon. Civilisation advanced so quickly in such a short time frame (to Merlin at least). With every new development, Merlin was dreading how to explain it to Arthur once he rose from the lake, he imagined it would be a lot of “Merlin, what’s that?” and “Merlin, are you lying to me?” or even “Merlin, I demand you take me back right now. This is not funny”. The thought amused him greatly.
If one good thing came from Arthur’s passing, it was that Merlin could remove his birthday from the list of national holidays. He knew Arthur would berate him eventually, but it was a small victory – one that had him missing the blond’s prattle about celebrations and how Merlin couldn’t keep his birthday a secret anymore.
He steps into his cottage on the outskirts of a quaint village; it was near enough to Lake Avalon that Merlin was able to see it from his kitchen window. The locals were lovely people as well; they often chatted with him in the market or asked him for advice on gardening – something Merlin had taken up just to keep his hands busy. He enjoyed their company, and it kept him from going insane, so he counted it as a win.
He sets his bag on the counter by the door, toeing off his boots as a ball of fluff headbutted his shin. During his more isolated years, Merlin had stumbled upon a cat near Lake Avalon, it was a blonde Maine coon that was clearly well cared for. At first, Merlin left the cat by the river and spoke to it every time he returned, thinking maybe they had an owner already. By his tenth visit, the cat was still there, having found a hollowed-out section of a tree to hide in. Merlin decided then and there to take the cat home, now under the impression that the cat was a stray.
It didn’t take long for the cat to make itself at home in Merlin’s cottage. If he didn’t know any better, he would say the cat was as arrogant as Arthur was when they first met. The thought was bittersweet. Merlin named the cat Arddwr, a Welsh name that he thought suited the cat perfectly.
Since then, Arddwr has become a staple in Merlin’s cottage. Children would stop by from the village to play with the cat and hear stories of Merlin’s adventures, disguised as fairy tales for the sake of animosity. Merlin was grateful for people sharing Arthurian legends, it kept Arthur’s memory alive whilst allowing him to mingle with those who enjoyed the stories. This, however, meant he had to live under a new name to blend in better. He had tried Myrddin but that seemed too obvious and instead went for Colin. It was a nice name, Merlin liked it and felt he suited it better than John or Edward.
Still, Merlin missed the connection he had with the knights, with Gwen, with Arthur. His days tended to blur together and if it wasn’t for his calendar, he would have forgotten his birthday entirely.
He steps into the kitchen to begin chopping vegetables when his eyes fell on the calendar above the counter. Days had been crossed off in red sharpie but one in particular had been circled – 23rd: Your Birthday. Great, another year passed and not an Arthur in sight.
“Just you and me again, Arddwr. That’s not so bad, right?” Merlin asks the cat with a soft sigh. He gently pets the cat’s head, smiling as it leans into his touch with an adamant purr.
ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
Meanwhile
Lake Avalon ripples despite the lack of wind. At first a blur slithers through the water, getting closer and closer to the water’s surface, it bends and weaves as it emerges from its cold tomb revealing brown curls and fair skin. Dressed in chainmail amour and a red cape, the man walks up the riverbank and stands frozen, staring out at his surroundings in confusion.
This isn’t Camelot. He thinks, glancing back at the lake. He recognised the tower in the distance but surely it couldn’t be, nothing else looked familiar at all. How long have I been asleep?
He turns back to the worn dirt path and trudges along at an even pace, taking in his new surroundings. There were no landmarks that he remembered back in Camelot, everything was new and confusing, it was hurting his head to think about. He opted for following the path until he found someone – anyone – who could give him directions.
ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
Merlin stood by the stove as he finished chopping the last of his carrots, he tosses them into a pot of water and grabs the bowl of broth from his beef preparations. He pours it into the pot and turns up the heat before leaving it to cook. Stew was an easy recipe and great for winter when it’s freezing both inside and out of his cottage. Sure, he used his magic to light the fireplace and keep the cottage at a perfect temperature, but he enjoyed making food by hand, it reminded him of Ealdor and his mother.
He gathers the utensils he used for the prep work and brought them over to the sink to clean. Just as he’s filling up the washing up bowl with hot water, he hears a knock at the door. Turning off the tap, he trudges over to the door with a sigh, hoping it’s not a child playing a prank or some older gentleman who got lost again. He unlocks the door and pulls it open only to freeze at the sight before him.
“Leon?”
ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
Merlin gets Leon situated in his living room after conjuring a new pair of clothes for him – a red knitted sweater and black jeans. He stood in the kitchen, staring at the kettle in disbelief as it boils the water for their tea. Leon was back, how? How is Leon back? Why now? Merlin ponders the idea, his mind instantly drifting to worst case scenario. If Leon is back, does that mean something is wrong? Is Arthur coming back? Is everyone coming back? Merlin had to admit, the thought of everyone returning was very pleasant. He had missed them dearly.
The kettle pings, snapping Merlin out of his daze. He picks it up and pours the water into the two mugs, watching the teabags float to the top and turn the water a dark brown. He sets the kettle back down and stirs the water for a moment then lifts the teabags out with the spoon, putting them in a small ceramic bowl to dry out. He stirs in the milk before carrying them into the living room and handing one to Leon.
He sits beside the knight on the couch and sips his tea. He didn’t want to overwhelm Leon with questions, but it seemed the other had no trouble speaking his mind.
“What is this place, Merlin? Where’s Camelot? What happened whilst I was gone?”
“Slow down, I can’t answer all your questions at once,” Merlin chuckles nervously. “This is my cottage, I live here. Camelot is… gone, it’s been overtaken and redeveloped. Nothing bad, I promise. A lot happened whilst you were gone but I’ll explain everything with time.”
Leon listens intently, sipping his tea carefully. His brain was working overtime to keep up with Merlin’s explanations. “Mm, and what is this? It doesn’t taste like those herb drinks or mead.” He asks, pointing at the cup in his hands.
“That’s tea. It’s made using bags of leaves and water. I added some milk so it wouldn’t be as bitter,” Merlin explains. “People sometimes add sugar or creamer depending on how sweet they want it.”
“Creamer?” Leon asks with notable confusion.
Merlin sighs, it’s going to be a long day.
ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
Hours Later
Merlin had explained most modern inventions to Leon, and for the most part, the knight seemed to understand the majority of his words. Arddwr had taken a liking to Leon and was very content in his arms as they ate their stew.
Back in Camelot, the knights often got nicer meals than most but nothing like the stew Merlin had made. It was often more bread and meats from hunts, and Leon wasn’t used to how filling it was or how much Merlin was able to make for himself. The concept of storing leftovers in the fridge was something Merlin had to explain a few times as Leon struggled to grasp that food could be chilled and preserved in a box of cold air.
Leon finished his stew pretty quickly and returned to petting Arddwr as he observed the living room. He spotted Merlin’s calendar above the kitchen counter and walks over to it. “What is this? A way to track days?” he asks, looking over the calendar with intrigue. “Wait, the twenty-third of winter? Ah, Merlin, happy birthday!”
Merlin smiles warmly at him and leans against the doorframe with the two empty bowls in his hands. “Thanks, Leon.” It felt nice to hear his friend well-wish him again, he missed the companionship of his friends like a lingering ache in his chest. He sets the bowls down on the counter and pulls Leon into an embrace. He had missed this, and as much as he appreciated Leon’s company, he missed everyone else too. He wished they were here to share this moment, but he was grateful for Leon and the Lake for giving him back.
Leon wraps one muscular arm around Merlin and returns the hug, much like Merlin, he needed this affection more than anything. The reassurance that someone was here, a solid, grounding body that would help guide him through this new modern world but also his old companion who he trusted more than anything.
“So, has anyone else arrived? Any birthday celebrations or festivities?” Leon asks.
“Ah, no, just you and Arddwr. Before you arrived, it was just me and the cat. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been talking to people in the nearby village but it’s not the same as Camelot.” Merlin admits, scratching behind the fluff ball’s ears. “I just… miss it, miss everything. I never thought I’d say this, but I miss running around after Arthur, teasing the pompous prat.”
Leon chuckles at that. “Who are you and what have you done with Merlin?” he teases, following the warlock back into the living room. They settle onto the couch and throw some blankets over their legs, the TV making ambient background noise as they talk. “No, I understand. You were the heart and soul of Camelot, I can’t imagine watching everything turn out the way it did. But Merlin, no one blames you for anything, you were tasked to keep Arthur safe, and you did. If anything, you should be blaming Arthur for not following his own training.”
Merlin smiles, leaning back against the couch cushions. “Hah, let me tell you, if that prat ever shows his face again, I’m gonna make him regret leaving.”
“That’s the right attitude, Merls, keep that up.” Leon replies, the warmth of their conversation returning as their playful banter returned.
ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
Well into the night, Merlin could sense Leon getting tired. The brunette kept nodding off whilst they watched a reality TV show together. Merlin had introduced him to The Chase and now Leon was hooked, it amused Merlin how passionate the knight was about a TV show.
“Leon, if you’re tired, you can go to bed,” Merlin offers with a small smile. “the guest room is free.”
Leon yawns. “It’s fine, Merlin, I’ll take the couch, I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Don’t be stupid, Leon, get up,” Merlin prompts, throwing the blankets over the back of the couch and taking Arddwr from Leon’s arms. The knight reluctantly stands up and follows Merlin through the hall to the guest room. “Here you are, let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do, thank you, Merlin,” Leon replies, ruffling the warlock’s messy curls. “Sleep well.”
“You too, Leon.” Merlin responds, playfully swatting at the knight’s hand before walking off to his own bedroom.
ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ
The next morning when Leon walks into the kitchen, Merlin breathes a sigh of relief that the previous night wasn’t some lucid dream. Leon was here, alive and breathing, Merlin wasn’t alone anymore.
ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ