The love that binds us is more important than the power we wield

Chapter 1

Approximatively a millenia and a half had passed, and yet Merlin was still waiting for Arthur to come back. Still thinking about the day he died. How his weight felt against his body. How his last words and the hand that he put in his hair rang and felt. Still awfully loud in his ears and that phantom sensation. How many time did Arthur ruffled his hair ? Why didn't he enjoy his friend's presence more ? Why did he have to start forgetting the face of everyone ? Why was Arthur's death the trigger for Merlin's action toward his kin ? Why didn't he helped the magical community before as he was considered even nowaday as a high lord and a human god among the druids. He was still thinking about the pain in the child's heart that caused these deaths and the fall of the Round Table, damaging Camelot forever until she collapsed completely after Guinevere death of old age, as not even Lohort, the child that Guenevere was bearing when Arthur had died, could do anything to keep the kingdom standing, dying shortly after being crowned due to his bad habit to fall asleep after each kill. Merlin was never close to the man. But he was still plagued with the child. Plagued by his memory, his smile, his laugh, his tears, his scream of despair. Plagued by their bond that had make him able to feel each of his emotion, hear each of his telepathic conversations, mirroring his pain.
Merlin saw them all, most of them died while he was by their side, feeming as if he was stealing lord Arawn mission. He sat by Gaius's sides during his final sleep. He kissed his mother's forehead when she closed her eyes for the last time. He laid down and hugged Gwen while she drew her last breath, talked Percival through it, reassuring him that death wasn't as painfull as everyone could think, telling him how beautiful Avalon was, failing to patch up Lanval after his last battle, held Leon's hand while the eldest knight was smiling, peacefully resting in his bed before his grip faltered, the smile forever engraved on his face thanking his little brother to have stayed so long by his sides.
The strangest feeling that Merlin had, was the regret not to have paid respect - though he felt it would be hypocrite of him - and apologized to Mordred before years, not being able to go near his grave made by Morgana. He finally went to it, couple centuries in, after making sure his grave would never collapse and would stay hidden from the outside world. Never wanting anyone to degraded the last rest of the young man.
Until then, we go unmarked in death as in life.
And yet, Merlin marked and enchanted the stone on top, writing down Mordred's name, his date of birth as well as death - how did he know the birth of the youngest, he didn't know, his magic just did the job, an intuition that told him that Mordred was a child of autumn, when the life of spring and summer is leaving but not completely yet.
Then, there was Morgana, that he failed as hard as the druid knight, to whom he gave the funeral worthy of a queen she could've been in Avalon if she had known as Freya told him, with all the magical elements fit for the last high priestess. But nobody told her she could've been a queen, nobody told her she could do so much more.
Guilt creeped its way in his heart. How could he had failed his kin so hard, all of this for a king who only gave him a glimpse of gratefullness, understanding, worthiness and acceptance at the end of his life. But Merlin would never hate Arthur, as Kilgharrah said once a very long time ago, a half cannot truly hate which makes it a whole. Arthur was his best friend, the reason why he never gave up waiting for so long, the reason he started to lose his mind after Mordred arrived - was it really because of the young man or was he already loosing it before, blinded by Arthur's well-being ? To think of it, the last true smiles Merlin ever showed were toward Gwaine and Arthur - both were of pain, knowing awfully well that it would be the last they would ever saw.
Sometimes, late at night, Merlin think about his last encounter with Gwaine, the understanding in the tearfull eyes of his best friend. He understood, too late, that Gwaine knew, that he had understood, but like Lancelot he kept his mouth shut and never utter a word, probably waiting for Merlin to talk first, to say it out loud once and for all. But how could he had done such thing, when all he always knew was fear for his life - not that dying ever scared him, but dying would have meant leaving Arthur behind. Maybe he should have listened when they told him that Arthur would be his own doom, maybe he should've talked to Mordred and tell him what truly happened with Kara. Maybe e should have told him about the prophecy. Maybe he should have told him that he never felt true hate but a screaming terror that used to keep him up at night back then. But they were all dead and the what if would do nothing good except destroying his mental health further. He remembered Gwaine's mother Anna and his little sister Clarissant, he remembered the new husband of Anna - Lot, was it ? - and the two young boys, old enough to be squire but still far from becoming knights - Gaheris and Gareth, he remembered Gwaine childhood friend Terence - whom he learned grew up in a forest with an ermit who was loosing his mind with his knowledge of the future, forgetting the past as the same time, how they all wept the loss of the one the magical being called Strenght. How they gave him a funeral worthy of a prince even though he wasn't one of blood. In the boat, Merlin had put his sword, some ale, a quill and parchment to symbolize all the stories the man told, an apple as well as some flowers he knew Gwaine secretly loved.
He thought of Dandrane, who succeed to run away to King Mark when her family was killed by Cenred army, how she thought Percival had died that day, only to find out he was still alive in their last years.
How Merlin found out the link between Lancelot and Hector. He hated himself so much that day, especially when he learned how grief took Elaine from the world of the living.
He thought of Mordred's family, the one he had left who flew far away from Camelot, how the young druid knight never found them, never knew they survived, how, many years after the last battle, his aunt from his father side - one of the rare person still alive - screamed when she learned his death, how she accused Merl- no - Emrys for failing her nephew. How he broke down into tears, falling to his knees and apologized profusely, having had the time to start to reflect on the ten years he spent in Camelot. The guilt only grew bigger after that day. He told her everything that Mordred did, how great of a knight he was and how stupid he had acted toward the young one. How he had believed in the prophecy, how much the fear of losing Arthur had made him become completely paranoid. How he could hear every telepathic conversations Mordred ever had, how he could sense his emotions and feel his magic everywhere, and how it didn't help to ease his hostility nonetheless, because Merlin had become a sort of puppet to the prophecy.
The worst part, was for Mordred to see him not only as the most powerfull sorcerer that ever walk the earth, but as Emrys, a myth, a legend, a god he dreaded to be.
Merlin sighed, he had thought about them all every day, and even the books from the university library couldn't take his mind elsewhere. He wasn't truly a student there - even thought he was register as such and practically studied in every university and every major - destroying evidences of his passage every time. He just always avoided computer science and all informatic courses - though he did have classes about that subject, digital humanities being the only ones he agreed to study seriously, after all, some part talked about archeology and he liked that subject, having lived at the beginning of what they called the Middle Age. He loved history and literature even though most of the teachers hated him for always saying contradictory things with their knowledge.
The magic community didn't disappeared, nor did it reduced over time. On the contrary they developped so well that nowaday they are able to hide themselves from the outside world. They blended perfectly with both worlds, having restored the Perilous Lands couple centuries back to live there.
They often asked Merlin to come live with them, being their human god and high lord, he always refused, preferring the abandoned house - if anyone can call it a house because of the size magic gave to it, waiting for inhabitants to come here to keep Merlin company outside of his twin - he found next to the Barenton fountain in the forest of Broceliande.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to concentrate at least a bit on his book, Language in Prehistory by Alan Barnard. He had choosed a major in humans and socials sciences with a link with languages, thinking it would be easy with how much he witnessed the evolution of the celtic, germanic and latin languages, but by Lady Cerridwen how wrong he was. It took him an entire month to differenciate morphemes, phonemes, graphemes, hiatus and diphtongs. Not that it was hard, actually, it was pretty easy to understand, but his brain refused to assimilate these knowledges.
- Still here reading the same sentence over and over, aren't you ? A woman, looking exactly as if she was his female version - and she kind of was - asked him cheerfully, sitting down next to him.
- Shut up Gwendydd, i just can't stop thinking. Merlin sighed, letting his head fall against his sister's shoulder.
He had found her really late, when their mother finally admitted that she was forced to make a choice when she gave birth, choosing to send Gwendydd to safety. The witch quickly ended up in Avalon herself and self-taught herself everything with the sources the previous high priestesses left behind, connecting herself to the goddesses protecting Avalon. She taught Merlin when they finally met. Like him, she couldn't die and for that Merlin was grateful, he could finally have someone always by his sides without fearing to lose them.
She started to pat his hair.
- The beginning of the VIth century again ?
- Mh.

This was how they called Camelot's with Arthur and the knights. She had never met any of them, but she had been listening to her brother stories, she was the first one to tell him how toxic his relationship with Arthur had been, how, even though he was a wonderful man, he didn't treated him correctly, how a relationship based on a lie was the worst which was why Lancelot - and even Gwaine, who kept his mouth shut - were better, how Mordred would have been the best of friend for him but that would have never happened, not because of how their relationship had started.
- Why then ? Had Merlin ask.
- Because the weight of the prophecy crushed you, you became obsessed with Arthur's well-being and Arthur in general going as far as to condemn magic to never come back in Camelot before Guenevere. From what you said, Mordred looked up to you and tried until before he died to come closer to you, but your irrational fear, hidden behind the hate label pushed him away and caused the fall of Camelot.
- It's all my fault.
- No, it's the fault of a stupid dragon and, i know you hate to hear that but you know i'm right, even though he was a great man he did bad decisions because he was human and you were an influencial boy, Gaius, who told you about the prophecy, made you doubt everything, scolding you for not doing enough while you were barely having time to sleep or eat, never aknowledge everything you've done or rarely, making you lie to Morgana. And Morgause who never told her the truth about the poison is possing me off, know that ! I know the dragon seemed like an anchor to you, that he couldn't lie or manipulates you but he did shamelessly. And Gaius, he was a father to you, i get that, he was a good man but he had flaws, he didn't really help you with your magic outside of giving you the book and scolding you each time you used magic in private quarters. You were reckless as all sixteen year old are, he was obviously lost with what to do with you when you show how powerful you truly were and are.

She was the one who sent him to a mind healer and then to different therapists present in the other world. But no matter the years of therapy, the guilt was still eating him up.
- Do you think... do you think Arthur will ever come back ? He asked weakly, having lost faith after ten centuries of waiting.
- Of course he will ! Otherwise i'm going to the other world and drag him myself here ! She exclaimed, making him laugh a bit.
- I miss them all so much, but when Arthur will come back, i don't know how i will react, i loved him as a friend and a brother, but fuck i can't ignore the pain he caused me anymore. I know i was just a servant to him, that he barely aknowledged me as a friend
- That he was clearly emotionaly constipated you mean ?
- This wasn't an image i wanted to picture, anyway. He sighed. One thing i want, is to hug Gwaine, tell him how sorry i am for causing his death, to apologize to Mordred even if i have to go down on my knees and begging him to listen.
- You wanted to be his friend, didn't you ? Your guilt toward Morgana is huge but not as much as the one toward Mordred.
- Yeah. Merlin reluctantly admitted.
- Oh Merl, maybe- oh crap we're late !
- What for ?
- Class you idiotic warlock.
- Can't i stay here ?
- You're a student you come with me !
- I only registered because you didn't want to be alone.

Gwendydd ignored her brother antics and dragged him toward the building where their class would start. They were so many in the amphitheater, that he felt as if he was crushed by the mass.
Their teacher started to speak, not caring if the students were not sitting yet. They were already late.
- So, who can tell me about medieval paleography ?

Merlin shut down his brain for the entirety of the class, Gwendydd too, they already knew all the informations about it, having witnessed the evolution of it, from the Strasbourg oath in the IXth century to the writings of kings Louis IV of France and Béla IV of Hungary in the XIIIth. They also wrote many manuscripts - Merlin being the one who wrote Arthur's speechs and Gwendydd writing down everything she learned to never forget.
Camelot had become a legend as well as Arthur and the knights, their story were never written properly, but Merlin decided to keep the book he wrote to himself, never wanted to share it with the world.
He missed his friends so badly he wanted to cry again, he never succeeded to grief even after all that time.
But maybe the day Arthur will come back is finally near.

Here chapter 1, i had the idea while i was having a bad insomnia and noticed the lack of merdred fic. All the characters are of age, and in my head canon Merlin and Mordred had originally 5 years and a half of difference while Arthur and Merlin had 4, Merlin and Gwaine 6, Lancelot and Merlin 2 but now Merlin is the oldest (that was obvious haha). As for the character of Lanval, for my defense i'm a linguistics student that study medieval texts (here with les lais de Marie de France) and who gathered too many knowledge about the arthurian legends (which also explain the presence of Gwendydd), also english isn't my first language so it might be quite rubbish. See you soon !