So we meet again... (a merthur au)

In Tennyson's Rendition

They could feel the sensation of years in the sheer glimpses of memories. All camping together, going on daring journeys and quests, sword fighting. They felt as though they were experiencing it themselves, their memories vague but returning, as they saw through Emrys' eyes.

He shared, in detail, one specific memory of each of them for all three to see. Finn was graced with being first.

...

The tavern was unamused, watching in vague interest as the brunette punched another pub-goer directly in the face.

"What do they call you then?" He asked, a little out of breath.

"Merlin." He responded, shocked.

"Gwaine," he shook Merlin's hand. "Nice to meet you."

He then proceeded to smash the clay pot of ale into another man's face.

"What a waste." Gwaine chuckled.

...

The memory ended, Finn feeling quite boistered in his ego. Not only was he cool now, he was cool then too. Morri and Arthur felt his smugness emanating from where he stood physically only a foot or so away but their minds all molded together to perceive these magic-sourced memory experiences. Then, it was Morrison's turn.

...

Morri's face, half-shoved through a grate with another knight at his side, whistled for Merlin's attention as they lowered the hook into the royal kitchen. Merlin chuckled, hooking one of the small chickens onto it and scampering away as the chef yelled at his back.

"Percival, get back here, damn you!" The chef yelled.

...

Lastly, a memory with Arthur. By the fireside, Arthur sat rubbing the soreness from his shoulder with a pouted look on his face.

"You were trying to leave your job." Arthur commented bitterly.

"No, I'm happy to be your servant... til the day I die." Merlin whispered softly, gravely.

There was a look of understanding, then quiet as the memories faded from their collective view.

...

When the three came around, Merlin sat on the floor pale with a heartbroken expression. "It's so funny, the things you remember. I wish I could give you more, but as time has gone on my memories seem to fade more and more. Magic or not, the human mind can only hold so much memory. I believe I am going to lie down, Arthur. I'll borrow your bed."

Merlin stood, wobbly and flushed as he lumbered to the bedroom with Wade at his heels and closed the door behind them.

Finn, or Gwaine as he used to be, was the first to speak, "Geez, I almost wish I saw Merlin first."

The other two looked at him in shock and confusion which earned a laugh from Finn, "Come on, don't tell me that declaration of loyalty didn't make your heart swoon. Mine sure did."

Morri, the Percival he used to be replaced by a more mature version, nodded, "It was, indeed, very endearing. I'm sure there are many more memories like that which bind him to you. To us, as well. As much as I would like to say you should pursue this, it is quite a big risk. I have had patients with an onset of amnesia and one person having-- if you'll pardon the expression, the emotional 'keys to the kingdom'-- you could find yourself in an unbalanced relationship. I'm not saying this as your friend, but as someone who deals with things like this for a living. It could end very badly, Arthur."

Arthur sighed, his heart sinking, "I know."

Finn, quietly muttered to himself, "You'll break his heart, Arthur."

"I know that, too." Arthur's voice snagged, "I'll make an appointment to the doctor, get cleared to go back to work. I don't have much left to do at home."

Reading the mood, Morrison was the first to head towards the door, pulling Finn's sleeve and dragging him along behind, "See you soon then, Arthur. Keep in touch."

After a limp wave, Arthur locked the door behind them and made sure all the doors and windows were locked to pass the time. He heard Wade's tail thumping on the floor and followed the sound into his bedroom where Emrys, half-awake and looking ghastly as the grave, sat with his thin fingers brushing affectionately on the cover of a book. Arthur recognized the tome as the first edition Tennyson he looked at in Merlin's apartment.

"Emr-- I mean Merlin-- that's the Tennyson right? The one with the writing in it?" Arthur asked.

"Yes," Merlin looked so pale and sick, "I want to read parts of it to you. I don't know if you've heard it, but it may fill some blanks. The more important ones, anyway. Is that alright?"

Arthur saw the quiet desperation in his eyes and nodded, wondering if he had ever seen Merlin this worn-down before.

Merlin began by licking his lip, and adjusting how he sat, making room for Arthur to sit beside him. Arthur sat, but a little further than Merlin wanted, by the looks of it.

"You're supposed to be speaking here," Merlin explained.

"I think that we
Shall never more, at any future time,
Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds,
Walking about the gardens and the halls
Of Camelot, as in the days that were.
I perish by this people which I made, -
Tho' Merlin sware that I should come again
To rule once more - but let what will be, be,
I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm
That without help I cannot last till morn."

Merlin bit his lip and held his emotions back, but continued, not having the heart to say aloud what he was thinking: this is the part where you die, Arthur.

"And dropping bitter tears against his brow
Striped with dark blood: for all his face was white
And colourless, and like the wither'd moon
Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east;

And all his greaves and cuisses dash'd with drops
Of onset; and the light and lustrous curls-
That made his forehead like a rising sun
High from the daïs-throne-were parch'd with dust;
Or, clotted into points and hanging loose,
Mix'd with the knightly growth that fringed his lips."

"Your hair wasn't curly, you look now very nearly like you did then." Emrys smiled fondly, "Tennyson preferred his romantic rendition somewhat over what I told him, though. He found it too sad. He changed the fact that you died in my arms, and made it another knight, made it seem like you may have had a chance to live... Which made it all the more cruel when he wrote the inscription. He tells me how much of a muse I was for him, that I made him a better writer by making him see the depths of human sorrow... but he could never really understand how much of me died with Arthur. The untold toils of immortality, I suppose. I feel so weak now, I guess my life truly will drain normally now, my magic feels as though it's faded almost completely, it won't regenerate at all."

Arthur felt an immense weight, he could have lived feeling something was missing, he'd done it thus far. The dark look on his face must have been plain to see, because Merlin took Arthur's hands in his. His fingers shook.

"I can use the last of my magic and make you forget. You'll never see me again. I'll do it, for you, if you want." Merlin held firm in his expression, hardened despite his hands shaking so slightly.

Arthur felt affection, maybe even love, swell in his heart as he pulled Merlin in for a tight embrace. "I don't want to forget. I don't. I just... It's too much too fast."

Merlin nodded, "I know."

Arthur, with an urge to follow his heart, leaned in to kiss Merlin. So meekly, Merlin melted into the touch. The situation left them both feeling battered and bruised. The night went on as they held each other.

Morning came, with a note, and a whispered goodbye Merlin was gone.