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It was the day of Arthur and Gwen’s wedding, and Merlin had already packed his bag. The event had been planned months in advance, giving Merlin plenty of time to say his subtle goodbyes and ensure that everyone inside the castle's walls would be safe even in his absence. Where he would go was still undecided.
It all started on a cold spring morning during their Monday council meeting when the stone started to roll. A meeting to which Merlin, in his usual fashion, clumsily arrived late. His pants were covered in mud, and the bag slung over his shoulder was filled to the brim with yarrow flowers. Merlin tried to sneak in quietly and find a chair, but unfortunately for him, the only available seat was beside Gwen and Arthur. He would have retreated had not both Arthur and Gwen seen him and gestured for him to join them. With all eyes on him from the moment he opened the door, Merlin walked as confidently as he could muster in his dirty pants to the front of the room and sat down.
As he settled into his seat with a small sigh of relief, he couldn't help but feel the weight of the long morning. Conveniently, it meant he had missed breakfast. Gwen shot him a sympathetic smile and whispered something to Arthur, who nodded in agreement. She then turned to Mordred and quietly instructed him to fetch some food for Merlin. While they waited, Arthur reached over and, with a gentle but firm touch, began to fix Merlin’s unruly hair, smoothing it back into place. When Mordred returned with a plate of bread and cheese, Gwen took it upon herself to hand-feed Merlin, ensuring he got a few bites as the meeting continued. A blush quickly spread over Merlin's cheeks.
Arthur, Gwen, and he had been an unofficial official couple for nearly one and a half years. It had been the most amazing 18 months of his life. Even if it was frowned upon, they shared a bed and kept each other warm during the night. Often, Merlin was in the middle, but sometimes Gwen claimed that spot. Merlin generally encouraged Gwen to take the middle place if he knew he would need to leave early in the morning to pick up some supplies for Gaius, like today. Arthur always lay closest to the door in case something happened, his sword always by the bed. Not that Merlin would ever let anything like that happen.
Everything felt too good to be real.
“So the ceremony will take place when the leaves turn red and orange,” one of the senior advisers said, while Gwen continued to prompt Merlin to eat more.
“That sounds acceptable. As long as it’s not too hurried to demand too many resources,” Arthur responded.
“Remember, sire, that if we wait too long, it will be too late,” the adviser added.
“Of course, of course,” Arthur murmured. If Merlin didn’t know better, he would have thought Arthur sounded sad.
Gwen turned to Merlin and looked deeply into his eyes. “I hope you understand why we need to do this.”
“Of course, I understand,” Merlin quickly replied, masking his confusion with an easy smile.
“I will start to arrange meetings, where you consort Guinevere is expected to join. So that we can start to smoothly plan the event without any major hiccups or miscommunications.”
“That sounds acceptable.” Gwen murmured, while stroking Merlin’s knee.
****
“I'm so sorry, man. This gotta be tough.” Lancelot said to him as they walked to the stables.
“Thanks, I guess.”
“I don't think I could be as understanding and accepting as you are if i was in your position”
“What are you talking about?”
“The marriage?”
“What marriage, I'm not getting married!”
“I know, but Gwen and Arthur are?”
“Are they?”
“Stop mocking me, Merlin. I'm just trying to be supportive, if you need someone to speak to find someone else but if you need a trip to the tavern find me.” Lancelot answered with huff, while Merlin just hummed. His hand started shaking and it felt like a thousand ants running across his skull.
“Sorry, I forgot that Gaius needed my help this afternoon.” Merlin hurriedly answered, before walking to his room. When he reached his room he allowed himself to collapse into his bed, where he started to shake and then cry.
It all clicked together. As Merlin laid on his bed, the one he hadn’t visited in months, tears streaming down his face. He had spent so many nights in Arthur and Gwen’s chamber, wrapped in their warmth, that his own bed now felt alien and cold. The reality of the situation crushed him with its weight. He had been nothing more than a toy for them, a fleeting amusement. How could he have been so stupid to imagine otherwise?
Arthur and Gwen were the real relationship. They were meant for each other in ways that Merlin could only dream of. He had let himself be swept away by a fantasy, imagining that the three of them could grow old together. It was a foolish dream, and they had humored it to avoid humiliating him. The plan had always been for Arthur and Gwen to marry. They would eventually tire of him, and he would be discarded, left to find his own way once they no longer needed him. They were clearly meant to be royalty, Merlin didn't fit the mold, not with his clumsiness, scared hands or his dirty pants.
But even in his pain, Merlin couldn’t bring himself to be angry at them. They were so beautiful, so kind. Gwen, with her gentle eyes and compassionate heart, would make a wonderful queen. She was already fitting into the role with such grace. And Arthur, strong and noble, had always been destined to be king. His leadership, his courage, his unwavering sense of duty.
Lying there, Merlin reminisced about the countless moments of tenderness they had shared. The way Gwen’s laughter lit up a room, the way Arthur’s touch sent shivers down his spine. They were perfect together, and it was only right that they should be the ones to rule. He couldn’t be angry at them for following their destiny, even if it meant breaking his heart.
Understanding this didn’t lessen the pain, though. It hurt deeply, a dull ache that throbbed with every beat of his heart. He realized that he would eventually need to leave. Seeing Arthur and Gwen together without him would kill him eventually. Every glance, every touch they shared would be a reminder of what he had lost, of the dream that had slipped through his fingers.
So he lay there, accepting the inevitable, his tears soaking into the pillow. He would leave, not out of anger or spite, but because he loved them too much to stay. He loved them enough to let them go, to let them be happy, even if it meant he had to endure the unbearable loneliness. And perhaps, somewhere out there, he might find a place where he truly belonged.
The following weeks followed the same pattern. Firstly he stopped completely sleeping in the middle and instead chose to sleep on the side. That was if he even slept with them. However, the first time, right after he cried himself asleep in his own bed was he rudely or gently awakened (depending on who you asked), by a worried Arthur and a concerned Gwen. He was bombarded with questions that he could only respond to by groaning. Arthur then demanded for him to join them in their bed and carried him like a bride all across the castle to their chamber. It was the last time he slept in the middle. Behind him, had Arthur wrapped his arms around him tightly and nuzzled his neck. His head resting comfortably against Gwen’s soft breasts. It was a last bittersweet moment where he let himself belong with them truly without any restrain or distance.
That morning was the start of the second part of the routine he started, and that was to completely stop eating breakfast with the two inside or outside their chamber. If he ate something, was it something he brought with him as he went around collecting different flora, or out helping the townspeople (in which they might even force feed him something). They didn't seem to notice that he wasn't there anymore. It was the easiest part to get rid of, it was almost natural. It made the rest of the day easier to deal with. If you start without something it is easier to continue without it, in this case it was their warmth and love.
The third part of Merlin's new routine was his alone time, the precious hours when he wasn't helping Gaius, aiding the servants, or attending to the townspeople. During these moments, he began carving runes on the outside of the castle and on the trees surrounding it. Each rune was part of an ancient ritual he had discovered in one of his old books, a gift from the druid people. The ritual was meant to protect Arthur and Gwen, and by extension, the entire castle. The runes were complex, time-consuming, and draining, demanding all his focus and energy. It was exhausting work, but it was a welcome escape, a way to keep his mind occupied and his heart numb.
Merlin found solace in the intricacy of the carvings. Each stroke of his knife into the wood or stone was a way to channel his feelings, his pain, and his love. The physical exertion left him utterly spent by the end of the day, making it easier to fall asleep. Otherwise, the emptiness of his bed, the absence of Gwen and Arthur’s comforting presence, would keep him awake, the loneliness gnawing at his soul.
As time went on, Merlin noticed with a pang that Gwen and Arthur seemed to seek him out less frequently. They were consumed by their royal duties, their impending marriage, and the weight of their responsibilities. When they did find him, their interactions were brief but filled with warmth. They kissed him softly, murmuring their proclamations of undying love. Yet, these moments felt fleeting, like whispers of a dream that was slipping away.
Merlin would smile and return their affection, but inside, he felt the growing distance. He understood that they were moving forward with their lives, their destinies intertwined in ways he could never fully share. The runes became his solace, his way of coping with the slow but inevitable fading of their once intense connection.
Despite the dwindling time they spent together, Merlin couldn't bring himself to resent them. He saw how beautifully Gwen was embracing her role as future queen, her kindness and wisdom shining through. He admired how Arthur was becoming an even greater king, his strength and nobility evident in every decision he made. They were magnificent, and he loved them both deeply.
Carving the runes became his refuge, his silent testament to the love he would always carry for them. It was more than just a way to stay close; it was his gift to them, ensuring their safety and the safety of their kingdom. With every etched line, he infused his magic, his hope, and his unspoken farewell.
Knowing that the ancient magic would protect them, Merlin found a bittersweet peace. He could leave, knowing that Arthur and Gwen were shielded from harm, their future secure. The runes were his final act of love, his way of ensuring that, even in his absence, they would remain safe. And as he etched the final lines into the bark of an ancient oak or the cold stone of the castle wall, he found solace in the knowledge that his love for Gwen and Arthur would remain forever inscribed in his heart and in the very walls of Camelot.
Then the day was suddenly upon them. His clothes that he was prompted by a senior advisor (Antony fucking Karlsson) had been delivered to him the day before. Merlin stood in front of the mirror, his reflection almost unrecognizable. Karl Bengtson, the castle's stern and meticulous tailor, had outdone himself. The clothes Merlin was forced to wear for Gwen and Arthur’s wedding were unlike anything he had ever worn before.
The tunic was a deep shade of sapphire, catching the light and shimmering faintly. Crafted from the finest velvet, it was soft to the touch and intricately embroidered with delicate gold threads along the cuffs and hem, echoing the designs on Gwen’s gown. It was elegant and regal, a stark contrast to how Merlin felt inside. Over the tunic, he wore a fitted doublet in a darker, midnight blue, fastened with ornate dragon-shaped clasps. The shoulders were padded, giving him a broader silhouette, while the sleeves were lined with silk, the same shade as Gwen’s dress. The trousers, made of finely woven wool, were snug but comfortable, tapering neatly into polished leather boots that reached just below his knees.
A belt of supple black leather cinched his waist, featuring a golden buckle engraved with the Pendragon crest, a stark reminder of his bond with Arthur and Gwen. No one except Arthur and now Gwen and the knights were allowed to wear it. The cloak draped over his shoulders was the final touch—a rich, royal blue velvet, lined with lighter blue silk and trimmed with silver, fastening with a silver phoenix brooch.
Each piece of his attire was a subtle nod to Gwen and Arthur’s wedding clothes. Gwen’s gown, a masterpiece of ivory and gold with accents of blue, and Arthur’s ensemble, majestic in shades of blue and silver, reflected their royal status and unity.
But Merlin couldn’t shake the choking feeling that it was wrong that he wore this, it was meant for royalty and not him. The once-intense connection had faded, and he was now an afterthought, a relic of a past they were moving beyond. Their proclamations of love were hollow, and he couldn’t escape the feeling that they no longer needed him.
He took a deep breath, the weight of unspoken love and inevitable departure heavy on his shoulders. Tears welled up in his eyes as he adjusted the cloak, knowing that this would be his last act of loyalty. He would leave right after the wedding, disappearing from their lives to spare himself the agony of watching them build a future without him.
As he turned away from the mirror, Merlin felt a pang of sorrow, knowing that no matter how regal he appeared, he would always be the outsider, destined to leave them behind. The love he thought they shared was just an illusion, and it was time to let it go.
The grand hall was adorned with garlands of flowers, flickering candles casting a warm glow over the stone walls. The air buzzed with excitement as the townspeople gathered for the wedding of Arthur and Gwen. Merlin, dressed in his elegant attire, slipped quietly into the hall, avoiding the front rows reserved for nobility and close friends. Instead, he found a seat among the regular townspeople, positioning himself beside the baker and the shoemaker.
As he sat down (but not before placing his bag behind the church), he exchanged polite nods with the people around him. The baker, a stout man by the name Bill, with hands that were for once not covered in flour , leaned over and whispered his greetings. Merlin smiled and nodded, his heart heavy with the knowledge that this might be one of his last times speaking to his friend.
The ceremony began, and Merlin's eyes were irresistibly drawn to the front. Gwen stood beside Arthur, radiant in her ivory gown adorned with gold and blue accents. Her hair was woven into an intricate braid, adorned with delicate flowers that mirrored the decorations in the hall. Arthur, in his majestic attire of blue and silver, looked every bit the king he was destined to be. They were a vision of unity and love, and Merlin's heart ached at the sight.
He watched as they exchanged vows, his mind drifting to the moments they had shared—the nights spent together, the whispered promises of a future where they would grow old together. But that dream was shattered now. The realization that he was no longer a part of their world cut deeper than any blade. Still, he couldn't help but feel a bittersweet happiness for them. At least they had each other. They would grow old together, have children and make Camelot greater.
As the ceremony reached its climax, Merlin felt a lump in his throat. He glanced around, not noticing how Gwen and Arthur seemed to be looking for someone in the crowd. But he didn’t see their searching gazes, as he had turned to the baker beside him.
"Thank you, Merlin," the baker said quietly, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. "We wouldn't have managed without your help." referring to how he had helped with the restoration of Bill's family’s roof a mere month ago.
Merlin nodded, forcing a smile. "I'm just glad I could help."
He returned his attention to the ceremony just in time to see Arthur and Gwen share their first kiss as a married couple. The hall erupted in cheers, and Merlin’s heart twisted painfully. They were so beautiful, so perfect together, and he loved them both so much it hurt. The dream of growing old together was gone, but at least he could find solace in knowing they had found happiness with each other.
As the celebration continued, Merlin slipped away quietly, his presence unnoticed by most. The joy of the wedding contrasted starkly with the sorrow in his heart. He would leave now, disappearing from their lives, but he would carry the memory of this day with him, the bittersweet reminder of a love that was never meant to be.
With one last glance at the happy couple, Merlin turned his back on his old life and started walking towards his new one. He found his backpack and started heading north, towards the neighboring country. It would take three months to arrive by foot, just in time for winter.
The first week of Merlin's journey was grueling and emotional. Each step away from Camelot felt like a step away from everything he had ever known and loved. The roads were rough, and the weather was unpredictable. One day, he trudged through a relentless downpour, his cloak soaked and heavy. The next, the sun beat down mercilessly, making every step feel like an ordeal.
He barely ate, finding it difficult to summon the will to forage or hunt. When he did manage to find food, it tasted like ash in his mouth. Nights were the hardest. Without Gwen and Arthur by his side, sleep eluded him. He often lay awake, staring at the stars, haunted by memories of their time together. He had thought they would grow old together, but that dream was gone. Now, he was just trying to find a way to survive the crushing loneliness.
As the days passed, Merlin’s feet grew sore and blistered, his muscles aching from the unrelenting march. The physical pain was a welcome distraction from the emotional torment. His mind kept replaying the wedding, the sight of Gwen and Arthur’s joyous faces, the feeling of being an outsider in their world.
On the seventh day, just as Merlin was beginning to think he could not bear another day of solitude, he stumbled upon a camp of fifty soldiers. They were gathered around a fire, their faces lit by the flickering flames. Curious and desperate for any form of human contact, Merlin approached cautiously.
The soldiers were wary at first, but when Merlin explained that he was heading north, they welcomed him. It didn’t take long for him to learn that the country he was planning to move to was at war with Camelot. They had been at war since the spring. The soldiers were heading to the front lines to protect their homeland.
Merlin's heart clenched at the thought of Camelot in danger. The idea of Gwen and Arthur threatened by war stirred something deep within him. He had left to escape the pain of losing them, but now he found a new purpose. He would join these soldiers, not out of a sense of adventure or duty, but because he had nothing left to lose. His own life felt meaningless now that he had lost his soulmates. But if he could protect them, even from afar, it would give him a reason to go on. If he died, no one would miss except his mom.
The soldiers provided him with new clothes and a sword. As he settled in with his new companions, Merlin found a semblance of peace. The physical exhaustion from the day’s travel, coupled with the camaraderie of the soldiers, allowed him to sleep soundly for the first time in weeks. He knew the road ahead would be dangerous, but the thought of protecting Arthur and Gwen gave him a renewed sense of purpose.
And so, with determination in his heart and the faces of his loved ones in his mind, Merlin marched north with the soldiers. He was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, for as long as Gwen and Arthur were safe, he could endure anything.
The journey to the neighboring country was grueling. Merlin and the soldiers trekked through thick forests, where the dense canopy barely allowed any sunlight to filter through. The path was treacherous, tangled with roots that tripped them and branches that clawed at their faces and clothes. When they emerged from the forest, they faced the wrath of swollen rivers and floods, the icy water numbing their limbs as they waded across, fighting the current every step of the way.
Food was scarce. They survived on their small provisions and whatever they could forage or hunt, which was often not enough to fill their bellies. The climate was unforgiving—one day scorching sun, the next day freezing rain. Merlin’s back ached from sleeping on the cold, hard ground, and his body was constantly sore from the unrelenting march. Yet, he pushed on, driven by the thought of protecting Gwen and Arthur.
When they finally reached the front lines, Merlin found himself thrust into battle almost immediately. The clash of swords, the cries of the wounded, and the chaos of combat became his new reality. He fought with a ferocity that surprised even himself, driven by a single purpose: to protect Camelot, and by extension, Arthur and Gwen.
Merlin’s magic, though used subtly, became a powerful tool in battle. He conjured gusts of wind to deflect arrows, used bursts of flame to scatter enemies, and healed the wounded when he could. His powers were a secret weapon, one that turned the tide of many skirmishes. His comrades began to notice his uncanny ability to anticipate the enemy's moves and his near-miraculous survival in situations that should have been fatal.
As the days turned into weeks, Merlin began to emerge from his shell. The soldiers around him saw his strength and determination and slowly began to follow his lead. He, along with two others, became the strategists of their group, devising plans that would outmaneuver the enemy. Merlin’s experience from Arthur’s council meetings served him well. His strategies were brilliant, turning dire situations into victories. His tactical mind, coupled with his quiet confidence, earned him respect and a touch of fear. It also meant that he slept less and less, choosing to stay up instead and planning their next attack.
One cold morning, as the sun barely peeked over the horizon, Merlin gathered the soldiers to discuss their next move. The enemy had fortified their position on a hill, making a frontal assault near impossible. As the men listened intently, Merlin laid out a plan to attack from the flanks, using the cover of the dense forest. His voice was calm and assured, his eyes scanning the faces of the soldiers who looked up to him. His plans were precise and well thought out, drawing from the countless hours he spent in Arthur’s council meetings, learning the art of war.
Merlin risked his life every day, charging into the thick of battle, saving countless lives with his bravery and quick thinking. He threw himself into the fray with reckless abandon, not caring for his own safety. During one particularly fierce battle, he spotted a group of enemy archers aiming for his comrades. Without hesitation, he sprinted across the battlefield, dodging arrows and sword strikes, to reach the archers. With a wave of his hand, unseen by his comrades, a gust of wind knocked the archers off balance, giving the soldiers a chance to regroup and counterattack.
His emotions were locked away, his heart encased in ice, allowing him to function with a clear mind and steady hand. During another skirmish, a young soldier named Aiden was trapped under a fallen tree. Merlin, despite the chaos around him, found the strength to lift the tree just enough to free Aiden, who looked at him with awe and gratitude. Merlin simply nodded and moved on, his mind already focused on the next threat.
People began to speak of him in hushed tones, awed by his prowess and the seemingly supernatural luck that followed him. They started to call him the Sorcerer, a title that spread through the ranks, adding to his mystique. The respect he garnered was tinged with fear, for they sensed that there was something otherworldly about him. But if someone outside the army would ask if Merlin had magic, they would deny it till the day they died. Stories of his deeds spread among the soldiers—how he seemed to be in the right place at the right time, how he survived wounds that should have been fatal, how he could turn the tide of battle with his mere presence.
Despite the relentless battles and the ever-present danger, even through the cold unforgiving winter, Merlin thrived. He became a beacon of hope for his comrades, a leader they could trust and rally behind. Each victory was a step closer to ensuring the safety of Camelot, and each life he saved was a tribute to the love he still carried deep within his heart, even though he refused to acknowledge it.
One evening, after a particularly brutal day of fighting, Merlin sat by the fire with his comrades. They shared stories and laughed, but Merlin remained silent, staring into the flames. A fellow soldier, Marcus, approached him. "You've done wonders for us, Merlin. We owe you our lives."
Merlin looked up, his eyes distant. "I'm just doing what needs to be done."
Marcus nodded "You carry a heavy burden, my friend. But know that we stand with you. Always."
Merlin managed a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Marcus."
As the weeks turned into months, Merlin's influence grew. He became known not just for his strategic brilliance but also for his unyielding courage. Or recklessness and suicide ideation. In one decisive battle, the other country's soldiers had surrounded them, cutting off all escape routes. Merlin, using his knowledge of the terrain and human psychic, led a daring night raid that took the enemy by surprise. They emerged victorious, the soldiers cheering his name.
Each victory was bittersweet, a reminder of what he had left behind and what he was fighting for. The respect he earned from his comrades was genuine, but it did little to fill the void in his heart. He had become a legend among the soldiers, a figure of awe and inspiration. Yet, every night, as he lay under the stars, his thoughts drifted back to Camelot, to Arthur and Gwen. He fought for them, for the kingdom they built, and for the love he once believed in.
Through it all, Merlin remained a silent guardian, his eyes always scanning the horizon for the next threat, his mind ever plotting the next move. He had become a warrior, a leader, and a legend, all the while carrying the silent burden of his lost love, driving him to fight harder, lead better, and protect fiercely. The love he had buried deep within fueled his every action, and though he never spoke of it, it was clear in every battle cry, every strategic move, and every life he saved. To think that only a year had passed.
The final battle was upon them, a clash that would determine the fate of the war. The air was thick with tension as Merlin and his comrades prepared for the onslaught. It was right after the second Christmas they celebrated on the field. Nothing like those christmases he got to spend in the castle or at home. It hadn't been much, just some extra meat to dinner and some caroling. But it had been good for morale. They stood at the edge of a vast, barren plain, the enemy forces amassed on the opposite side, their banners fluttering ominously in the wind. The sky was overcast, casting a gloomy shadow over the battlefield, as if the heavens themselves were mourning the bloodshed to come.
Merlin, alongside his fellow strategists, had devised a plan to outflank the enemy. They would divide their forces, sending a smaller contingent to engage the enemy head-on while the main force circled around to strike from behind. As the signal was given, the two armies collided with a deafening roar. The ground trembled under the weight of charging soldiers, the clash of steel echoing across the plain.
Merlin fought with unmatched ferocity, his magic subtly guiding his every move. He deflected blows with invisible barriers, summoned bursts of flame to drive back the enemy, and used gusts of wind to disorient their archers. Despite the chaos around him, his mind remained sharp, his focus unyielding. He fought not just with his sword but with his heart, every strike a testament to his love for Arthur and Gwen.
In the heat of battle, Merlin spotted a group of enemy soldiers breaking through their lines, heading straight for their command post. Without a second thought, he charged toward them, his sword gleaming in the dim light. He cut through the first few attackers with ease, but more kept coming, their eyes filled with murderous intent.
Suddenly, Merlin felt a sharp, searing pain in his side. He looked down to see a dagger protruding from his abdomen, the enemy soldier who had struck him grinning wickedly. With a surge of adrenaline, Merlin swung his sword, decapitating his assailant, but the damage was done. Blood poured from the wound, soaking his clothes, but he refused to fall. He continued to fight, every movement agony, but he pushed through the pain, determined to see the battle through.
As the battle raged on, Merlin's comrades executed their flanking maneuver perfectly. The enemy, caught off guard, began to falter. The tide of battle shifted in their favor, and the soldiers of Camelot pressed their advantage, driving the enemy back. With a final, thunderous charge, they broke through the enemy lines, sending their foes into a panicked retreat.
Victory was theirs, but at a great cost. The battlefield was littered with the wounded and the dead, the air thick with the scent of blood and smoke. Merlin, his strength waning, staggered back to the command post. His vision blurred, and he collapsed to his knees, clutching his side. His comrades rushed to his aid, their faces etched with concern.
"Merlin, you need to rest," Marcus insisted, his voice urgent. "You're hurt."
Merlin shook his head weakly. "There are others... who needs help..."
But his body betrayed him, the loss of blood too much to bear. He was carried to his tent, where a healer worked frantically to staunch the bleeding and bind his wound. It was the first time he had been carried since that day he got to know about Gwens and Arthur's engagement. Despite his protests, Merlin was forced to rest, his body too weak to move. Each day, he tried to rise, to help his comrades, but he was always forced back to his bed, his friends and the healers insisting he needed to recover.
The army had to delay their return to Camelot by a month, a necessary respite for the many wounded soldiers to heal. Merlin's condition was touch-and-go for the first few days, the wound deep and perilous. He hated being confined to his tent, the helplessness gnawing at him. But every time he tried to leave, his legs would give out, and he would be gently guided back to his bed.
During this time, Merlin’s comrades took turns sitting with him, sharing stories of the battle and their plans for the future. They respected him more than ever, seeing the extent of his sacrifice. Despite the pain and frustration, Merlin found some solace in their company. He realized that, in his own way, he had built a new family among these soldiers.
As the weeks passed, Merlin’s strength slowly returned. He still bore the pain of his wound, but continued to advise and plan, his tactical mind as sharp as ever. His comrades relied on him, and he found purpose in guiding them, even from his sickbed.
After a month of rest, the surviving soldiers began their preparations to return to Camelot. The camp was filled with a mix of relief and exhaustion, the soldiers eager to leave the bloodstained battlefield behind. Merlin, however, had other plans. As he packed his belongings, he made his way to the tent of the army's commander, Sir Roderick, a stern but fair leader who had gained much respect during the campaign.
Merlin's steps were slow and measured, the pain from his wound still a constant, throbbing reminder of the battle. When he reached Sir Roderick's tent, he paused, gathering his thoughts before stepping inside. The commander was hunched over a map, deep in thought, but he looked up as Merlin entered.
"Merlin," Sir Roderick greeted him with a nod. "What can I do for you?"
"Sir, I wanted to speak with you about the journey back," Merlin began, trying to keep his voice steady. "I would like to request permission to travel directly home instead of returning to Camelot with the rest of the army."
Sir Roderick's brows furrowed in surprise. "Directly home? Why would you want to do that? You've earned a hero's welcome in Camelot. You deserve to be honored for your bravery and leadership."
Merlin took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his decision pressing down on him. "I appreciate that, truly. But... I have personal reasons for wanting to avoid Camelot. I think it's best for me and for those I care about if I don't return to the capital."
Sir Roderick's expression softened, but he remained firm. "I understand that you may have your reasons, Merlin. However, it would not be proper to leave the knights without a proper goodbye and without a formal recognition of your service. You've become an integral part of this army, and your comrades deserve the chance to honor you and bid you farewell."
Merlin's shoulders slumped slightly, his hopes of a quiet departure fading. "But, sir, surely there can be exceptions..."
Sir Roderick shook his head. "You are not just any soldier, Merlin. You are a war hero. Your leadership and bravery have saved countless lives, and that must be acknowledged. Besides, leaving without a proper farewell would be seen as disrespectful to those who fought alongside you."
Merlin knew the commander was right, even though it pained him to admit it. His duty to his comrades, to the men who had fought and bled beside him, could not be shirked. "I understand, Sir Roderick," he said quietly. "I'll accompany the army back to Camelot."
Sir Roderick nodded, his gaze filled with respect and understanding. "Thank you, Merlin. I know this isn't easy for you, but it's the right thing to do. We'll make sure your return to Camelot is fitting for the hero you are."
Merlin left the commander's tent, his heart heavy. The journey to Camelot would be bittersweet, filled with the adulation of his comrades but also the painful reminder of what he had left behind. As he rejoined the preparations for departure, he steeled himself for the days ahead, knowing that this was a final duty he had to fulfill before he could truly find peace.
The journey back to Camelot was long and arduous, but the soldiers' spirits were lifted by the knowledge of their victory and the impending return to their families and homes. For Merlin, every step was a struggle against the memories and emotions he had tried so hard to bury. He threw himself into assisting with the travel preparations, helping the wounded, and ensuring the men were well cared for, all the while trying to keep his mind occupied and away from thoughts of Arthur and Gwen. Always choosing to be the last one in the long line of soldiers to make sure no one was left behind.
As the days passed, the landscape began to change, and the familiar sight of Camelot's towering walls came into view. It was odd seeing the spots he used to forge and the tree he used to take naps beside. The soldiers cheered, their weariness momentarily forgotten in their excitement. Merlin's heart ached with every step closer to the city, but he kept his resolve, determined to see this final duty through with the honor and dignity that had become his hallmark.
When they finally reached Camelot, the city was abuzz with anticipation. Word of their victory had spread, and the people gathered to welcome their returning heroes. Banners fluttered in the wind, and flowers were strewn along the streets as the soldiers marched through the gates, heads held high. Merlin walked among them, his presence commanding respect and admiration. Even if all Merlin wanted to do was hide away and return to his mother.
As part of the returning group of soldiers, Merlin walked through the gates of Camelot, blending into the formation of weary but victorious knights. The air was filled with a sense of triumph and relief, the city's familiar walls a welcome sight after the long and grueling campaign. His hood was pulled low, and he kept his head down, hoping to avoid drawing attention to himself.
At first, the townsfolk were too busy cheering for the returning soldiers to notice Merlin. Their eyes were drawn to the shining armor and the banners fluttering in the breeze. But as the knights passed through the gates, a young boy standing near the front of the crowd caught a glimpse of Merlin's face beneath his hood. His eyes widened, and he pointed excitedly. "Merlin! It's Merlin!"
Merlin turned at the sound of his name, his heart skipping a beat. The boy's voice rang out clear and sharp, cutting through the clamor of the crowd. As if a ripple had passed through the onlookers, heads began to turn, and the whispers started to spread.
"It's Merlin! Our Merlin!"
"He's back! Merlin has returned!"
The crowd's reaction was immediate and intense. People began to push forward, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the legendary figure who had been the subject of so many stories and songs. The atmosphere grew electric, a buzz of excitement and awe rippling through the gathered masses.
Merlin felt a lump form in his throat as he saw the familiar faces of the townspeople, their expressions a mix of joy and reverence. These were the people he had spent years protecting, the people he had left behind. And now they were here, celebrating his return, showering him with the kind of admiration he had never sought but deeply appreciated.
The soldiers around him slowed their march, glancing at Merlin with confusion. The whispers grew louder, turning into cheers as the crowd surged forward, trying to get closer. The air was filled with shouts of his name and expressions of gratitude.
"The king and queen have been looking for you, Merlin! Where have you been?!"
Merlin's heart ached at the mention of Arthur and Gwen. He had left to protect them, to let them live their lives without the burden of his presence. But seeing the joy and relief on the faces of the people, he couldn't help but feel a pang of longing. He had missed Camelot, and Camelot had missed him.
As the procession continued toward the castle, the crowd parted to let them through, but their eyes never left Merlin. When they reached the courtyard, the knights were greeted by Sir Leon and the other senior knights of Camelot, who directed them to their quarters. All while Merlin tried his best to blend in with the other soldiers. The celebrations were set to begin soon, but first, they needed rest.
Merlin, still overwhelmed by the reception, followed the knights to the rooms prepared for them. He felt a mixture of exhaustion and elation, his emotions a turbulent sea inside him. As he settled into his quarters, he couldn't shake the feeling of belonging, of having come home, even if his heart was still heavy with the pain of separation. It felt wrong being so close to his old room and not being able to sleep there.
The celebrations would be grand, the recognition deserved, but for now, Merlin needed a moment to collect himself. He sat on the edge of his bed, listening to the distant sounds of the city he loved, he allowed himself a brief moment of.
****
In their chambers, Gwen and Arthur prepared for the evening’s grand celebration. The war was finally over, and Camelot was ready to honor its returning heroes. Gwen stood before a mirror, adjusting her gown, while Arthur sat on the edge of their bed, staring at the floor with a clouded expression.
"Arthur, you need to pull yourself together," Gwen said softly, her voice firm yet compassionate. She was holding herself together better than Arthur, who seemed lost in his sorrow.
Arthur looked up, his eyes filled with deep, unspoken pain. His thoughts were consumed by Merlin, and he couldn’t stop thinking about how Merlin had left, believing that they no longer loved him. The ache in his chest was constant, a relentless reminder of their failure to communicate what had truly driven their hasty marriage.
Arthur’s mind was a whirlpool of regret and self-recrimination. He replayed the moments leading up to Merlin’s departure over and over, each time seeing a hundred ways he could have done things differently. How could he have let Merlin believe, even for a moment, that their love had faded? Merlin, who had stood by his side through every trial, who had been the cornerstone of their trio. The thought that Merlin had felt unloved and unwanted cut deeper than any blade.
He should have kept Merlin close by always, should have made sure Merlin knew how indispensable he was, not just to Camelot, but to Arthur and Gwen. Arthur had been so focused on the demands of the kingdom, on the looming war and the need for a united front, that he had taken Merlin’s presence for granted. He had assumed Merlin understood, and assumed that their bond was unshakeable. But in his preoccupation, he had missed the signs of Merlin pulling away, of his increasing isolation.
Every time he saw Merlin’s face in his mind’s eye, a wave of guilt washed over him. He remembered the way Merlin had always looked at him with unwavering loyalty and love, and he hated himself for allowing that light to dim. The realization that Merlin had left thinking he was no longer loved was a torment that Arthur could hardly bear. He should have seen it, should have stopped Merlin from drifting away. But he hadn’t, and now the damage was done.
The war had forced their hand, compelling them to present a united front to their people. Stability was crucial, and a royal wedding was the perfect symbol. Yet, they hadn’t wanted to get married without Merlin. They thought he had understood their reasons, but in the chaos of those months, they had neglected to explain fully. They had planned to talk to him after the wedding, to reassure him of his place in their lives. But by then, it was too late. Merlin had already pulled away.
Gwen joined Arthur by the window, her hand resting gently on his arm. She, too, missed Merlin deeply. Every day was a struggle without him. The first three months after he left were unbearable. She had managed to maintain her composure for the sake of Camelot, but Arthur had been a shadow of himself, barely able to function. They had both been devastated, but their duty to their kingdom had forced them to push through their grief.
They had sent out search parties for half a year, hoping to find Merlin and bring him back. But as the war dragged on, resources had to be redirected. The needs of the country took precedence, and the search had to be called off. Despite this, they had never stopped grieving, never stopped missing him.
Arthur stood by the window, looking out over the city. The weight of his responsibilities was heavy, but the loss of Merlin was a burden that never eased. He thought of how they had envisioned their future together, growing old as a trio, united in love and purpose. But that dream had shattered when Merlin left.
Gwen's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she watched Arthur. She still dreamed of the three of them together, and every day without Merlin was a reminder of what they had lost. The war had made them stronger leaders, but it had also taken away a piece of their hearts. They had managed to continue because Camelot needed them, but their personal loss was a wound that never healed.
But wishes were futile now. Merlin was gone, and Arthur was left to grapple with the consequences of his neglect. He only hoped that somewhere, somehow, Merlin knew that they had never stopped loving him, that he missed every moment of every day. Arthur vowed silently to honor Merlin’s memory by being the best king he could be, by making sure that Camelot remained strong and just, the way Merlin would have wanted.
As he turned back to Gwen, who was watching him with sad, understanding eyes, Arthur drew a shaky breath. He had to pull himself together, to stand tall for the celebration and for their people. But inside, his heart would always ache for the friend he had lost, for the love that had been misunderstood and taken for granted. Tonight, they would stand united as king and queen, showing their people that they remained strong. But in their hearts, they would always feel the absence of their beloved Merlin. They would honor the returning heroes and celebrate the end of the war, but their thoughts would linger on the one who was missing.
*******
A servant came to his room and left him a new set of clothes. The first new clothes since the start of the war. It was a blue linen tunic and a pair of soft black trousers. It was much simpler clothes than he was used to be wearing when he lived in the castle, but as a starved and dirty soldier was this gold worth. It took him an hour of scrubbing to even resemble something that could classify as clean. His hair was now long, reaching all the way to his shoulder blades. He usually keep it out o f the way by having it up in a bun, however today to honor the occasion he decided to make a somewhat braided hairstyle, nothing complicated but still better than his usual bun..
After he dressed, he glanced at the small, cracked mirror on the wall. The reflection staring back at him was almost unrecognizable. The lines of worry and fatigue were etched deeply into his face, a scare ran down from his ear to his collar bone and his eyes seemed haunted, the vibrant spark they once held now dimmed. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead.
The servant returned, bowing slightly as he announced, "The celebration is about to begin, sir. The ballroom is ready."
He nodded, his throat tightening with anxiety. He dreaded this moment. The thought of facing them—his family, the nobles, the knights who once fought by his side—filled him with a mixture of fear and shame. He was not the same man who left the castle, full of vigor and dreams of glory. Now, he felt like a shadow of his former self.
He followed the servant down the dimly lit corridor, each step feeling heavier than the last. The sound of laughter and music grew louder as they approached the ballroom, a stark contrast to the silence that had enveloped him for so long. He paused at the entrance, his heart pounding in his chest.
He peered inside. The grand ballroom was illuminated by dozens of chandeliers, their crystal prisms scattering light across the room. The nobles were dressed in their finest attire, their conversations filled with laughter and merriment. Knights in shining armor stood tall and proud, exchanging stories of valor and triumph. Laneclot and Leon stood in the middle of the group conversing. He scanned the room quickly, spotting his fellow soldiers at the far end, surrounded by well-wishers.
His first instinct was to turn around and leave, to find some dark corner where he could hide until the celebration was over. But he knew he couldn’t do that. He had to face them, no matter how difficult it was.
He stepped inside, keeping to the edges of the room. His plan was simple: avoid as much interaction as possible, particularly with those he once held dear. He moved silently, like a ghost, slipping past groups of people engrossed in conversation. He managed to stay unnoticed for a while, but his luck didn’t last long.
The ballroom hushed as the large double doors swung open, and King Arthur and Queen Guinevere entered, their presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Arthur was dressed in his royal regalia, the gold and red of his cloak catching the light from the chandeliers. Gwen looked resplendent in a gown of deep emerald, her hair adorned with a delicate crown. They walked with grace and purpose, moving towards the thrones at the head of the room. Seeing them were like a punch in the stomach.
Arthur paused before taking his seat, turning to face the gathered crowd. The room fell into a respectful silence, every eye fixed on their king.
"Ladies and gentlemen, noble knights and honored guests," Arthur began, his voice strong and clear. "Tonight, we gather to celebrate the bravery and sacrifices of those who have defended our kingdom. In times of war, it is not just the strength of our swords that protects us, but the courage and spirit of our people."
He looked out over the room, meeting the eyes of soldiers who had fought valiantly, families who had lost loved ones, and citizens who had supported the war efforts from home. "Our soldiers have shown remarkable heroism on the battlefield, facing dangers that many cannot even imagine. Their deeds have brought honor to our country, and it is my privilege to recognize a few of them tonight."
Arthur glanced at the scroll handed to him by a page, the list of names hidden from view. "Three individuals will be honored for their extraordinary service and valor. Their actions have not only protected our kingdom but have inspired us all."
He unrolled the scroll, beginning with the first name. "First, Sir Ewan of the Northern Guard, who led a daring raid behind enemy lines, ensuring a crucial victory for our forces." Applause erupted as Sir Ewan stepped forward, bowing deeply before receiving his medal from Arthur.
"Second, Lady Isolde, whose unwavering determination and strategic brilliance turned the tide in many battles." The room cheered as Lady Isolde approached, her eyes shining with pride as she accepted her award.
Arthur took a deep breath before reading the final entry. "The third and final award goes to someone whose deeds are both numerous and profound. This individual has faced peril with unmatched bravery, undertaking missions that seemed impossible and performing acts of heroism that have saved countless lives."
He continued, detailing the incredible feats. "From rescuing comrades trapped behind enemy lines to single-handedly securing vital intelligence, this person has shown a level of courage and selflessness that is truly exceptional. Their dedication has been a beacon of hope in the darkest of times."
Arthur's voice wavered slightly as he neared the end of the description, a sense of recognition dawning on him. "This individual has risked life and limb time and again, without seeking glory or recognition. They have been a steadfast protector of the realm, and it is with great honor that I call forward..."
He paused, his eyes scanning the scroll in disbelief. "Merlin."
The room fell into a stunned silence, followed by murmurs of surprise. Arthur's eyes searched the crowd until they landed on Merlin, standing at the back, looking as if he wanted to melt into the floor. The soldiers around him nudged and pushed him forward, their faces lit with admiration and pride.
Merlin hesitated, his heart pounding, before slowly making his way to the front. His heart beat so loud that everything around him quieted. As he reached the stairs to the throne he finally looked up and met Gwen’s eyes. It took all of him not to break down in tears.
********
There he was, their Merlin.
So very close.
He looked different, his hair was longer, and he had a scar that reached from his ear to under his shirt. But he was still their Merlin. As he reached them Gwen carefully reached forward, stroking his check light, to make sure that he was actually there. That was before she flung herself onto him and hugged him as tightly as she could. Bringing her head down to his shoulder, truly feeling him and his warmth. It took a second or two before Merlin brought his arms around her waist.
Arthur stood nearby, watching the reunion with a mix of relief and longing. He had been holding himself back, giving Gwen the moment she needed. But now, he could wait no longer. He stepped forward, his voice thick with emotion. "Merlin," he said, the single word carrying the weight of years of worry and hope.
Merlin looked up, his eyes meeting Arthur's. The king's expression was a mirror of Gwen's—filled with love, relief, and a touch of disbelief. Arthur moved closer, his steps hesitant at first but gaining confidence as he approached. He reached out a hand, resting it on Merlin's shoulder, feeling the solid reality of his friend beneath his touch.
"You idiot," Arthur whispered, his voice breaking. "Do you have any idea how much we missed you?"
Merlin tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Arthur's hand slid from Merlin's shoulder to pull him into a fierce embrace, one that spoke of all the nights spent worrying, all the days spent searching.
Gwen, still holding Merlin, stepped back slightly to make room for Arthur. She watched as the two men, who had been through so much together, finally reunited.
Arthur pulled back just enough to look at Merlin's face. "You look like hell," he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth despite the tears in his eyes.
Merlin chuckled, a sound that was both familiar and deeply missed. "You don't look much better, clotpole." he replied, his voice rough but warm.
Then a loud applause started to echo throughout the room. But that didn’t matter, they had Merlin back and they would not let him leave.
Gwen, still cradling Merlin's arm with a gentle but firm grip, glanced at Arthur. Arthur nodded, and the three of them began to make their way toward the door. The applause around them was deafening, yet it felt distant, almost unreal. All that mattered now was Merlin, safe and sound between them.
Arthur kept a protective hand on Merlin's back, guiding him forward. "Easy now," he murmured, concern lacing his words as his fingers brushed against Merlin's shoulder. Gwen stayed close on Merlin's other side, her thumb tracing soothing circles on his forearm.
As they walked down the long corridor, memories of their past together filled the silence. Gwen's touch lingered on Merlin's sleeve, her eyes never leaving his face. Arthur's hand would occasionally drift to Merlin's back or shoulder, a reassuring presence.
They reached the door to their old room, and Arthur pushed it open, letting Merlin step inside first. The room was just as Merlin remembered it: warm, inviting, and full of history. Gwen and Arthur stayed close, not letting him stray too far from their reach.
Arthur walked to the bed, gesturing for Merlin to follow. "We kept everything just as it was," he said softly. "We always knew you'd come back."
Merlin's eyes fell upon the painting hanging on the wall beside the bed. It was a portrait of him, painted with such care and love that it seemed to capture his very essence. He moved closer, Gwen and Arthur at his sides, their hands never leaving him.
"Do you like it?" Gwen asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"It's perfect," Merlin replied, his voice breaking. He turned to them, his eyes filled with gratitude and love. "I can't believe you did this for me."
Arthur placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder, squeezing gently. "We would do anything for you, Merlin."
Gwen leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Merlin's temple. "You're home now. We're never letting you go again."
They stood there for a moment, the three of them wrapped in a cocoon of love and shared memories. Arthur's hand found Merlin's, their fingers intertwining. Gwen rested her head on Merlin's shoulder, her other hand gently stroking his back.
Then they’re laid, like it was two years ago again. Merlin in the middle, his head on Gwen’s chest and her arm thrown over his stomach, and Arthur held onto him like he would run away (again).
It felt peaceful, it was nice to have a night with them before the excitement of seeing an old friend die down and they return to their old married life again. That night was the worst he slept since the first night away. On another note, was it easier to wake up early and before them to return to his room to pack and get ready for another week on the roads to his mother. As his feet touched the chilling floor he felt shivers dance down his spine, it would be so easy to return to them. To play the accepting ex-lover and now just friend. If they ever got to know about his magic, would they throw him out either way. Now after all these months gone from them, he wouldn't throw all his work away just because he got cold feet from the chilling floor. It would be worth it, he hoped at least.
******
Gwen and Arthur slept better than they have since the day they announced the engagement. Having Merlin so close to them, safe and protected from all harm that could get to him outside the castle walls and their arms.
In the stillness of the night, as the soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the curtains, Gwen and Arthur lay on either side of Merlin, who had finally returned to them after two long years. The bed felt complete again, the warmth of his presence a balm to the ache that had lingered in their hearts since the day he left. They watched him sleep, his face peaceful in the moonlight, and their hearts swelled with love so deep it was almost overwhelming. Merlin was everything to them—more than just a friend or a lover. He was the glue that held them together, that made their relationship more whole, more vibrant. Without him, they had felt like something vital was missing, as though they were a puzzle with a missing piece that left them incomplete.
Arthur couldn’t help but smile as he looked at Merlin’s tousled hair, remembering all the times Merlin had tried to brush it down only for it to spring back up in defiance. He was so cute, in the way he scrunched his nose when he was deep in thought, in the way his eyes sparkled with mischief whenever he made a sarcastic quip. Arthur adored Merlin’s sharp wit, his dry humor that could lighten even the darkest of moments,even if he would deny it until his death bed.
Gwen’s heart softened as she brushed a gentle hand across Merlin’s forehead. He was so handsome, with his delicate features and those soulful eyes that seemed to see right into her soul. She loved the way his lips curled into a smile that could light up an entire room, the way his laughter rang out, so full of life and warmth. And despite his attempts at hiding his magic, she and Arthur always knew. How could they not? Merlin’s magic was as much a part of him as his beating heart, and he was terrible at hiding it. They would catch him doing small things, like lighting a candle with a mere flick of his fingers or muttering spells under his breath when he thought no one was watching. It was endearing, really, how he tried so hard to keep his secret, even though they had known for so long and loved him all the more for it.
Merlin was the one who made the castle feel like a home, who ensured that everything flowed smoothly. He was always there, in the background, quietly making sure that everything and everyone was taken care of. The townspeople adored him, and so did the servants. They knew how much he did for Camelot, how he was the unseen force that kept things running, how he made life better for everyone around him.
As Gwen and Arthur lay there, cocooned in the warmth of their bed, they couldn’t imagine growing old without him. He was their heart, their soul, the one who made them whole. They had spent two years aching for him, searching for him, longing for his return. And now that he was back, they couldn’t let go of him. Not ever again.
Merlin stirred slightly in his sleep, and both Gwen and Arthur instinctively moved closer, wrapping their arms around him protectively. They loved him more than words could express, more than they had ever thought possible. He was the light of their lives, the one who made everything brighter, better, and full of love.
And as they drifted off to sleep, their hearts were finally at peace, knowing that their Merlin, their love, was home where he belonged.
*******
Then he was gone again when they woke up. Arthur swore and Gwen cursed.
The early morning was still dark when Gwen and Arthur woke to an unsettling emptiness in their bed. The spot where Merlin had been sleeping was cold, his presence gone without a trace. Panic set in instantly, a chilling reminder of the day he had disappeared after their wedding. Arthur's heart pounded in his chest as he quickly dressed, Gwen doing the same beside him, her face pale with fear.
They searched the castle, their minds racing with the thought that they might have lost him for good this time. Desperation clawed at them, the fear that they had pushed him away forever because of their failure to show him how deeply they loved him. Arthur called for every knight and soldier, and even the townspeople joined the search, determined to find the man who had quietly become the heart of Camelot.
The hours stretched on, each passing moment filled with dread. They couldn’t bear the thought of Merlin leaving them again, especially not now, after everything they had been through. Arthur's mind was a storm of regret and fear as they scoured every corner of the castle, every hidden nook, but found no sign of him.
It was only when Arthur ventured to the edge of the town, the first light of dawn breaking through the trees, that he found Merlin. He was curled up beneath an old oak tree, asleep with his backpack beside him, ready to leave Camelot behind.
Relief washed over Arthur, but it was tinged with sorrow. He crouched down beside Merlin, gently shaking him awake. When Merlin opened his eyes, there was a fleeting moment of surprise before he quickly masked it, sitting up and averting his gaze.
“Merlin,” Arthur began, his voice thick with emotion. “Why would you leave without saying anything? Or leave at all?”
Merlin looked away, his expression conflicted. “I was going back to my mother,” he said quietly, as if that explained everything. “I thought… I thought it was time.”
Gwen arrived moments later, out of breath and pale. Her eyes filled with tears as she saw Merlin, safe but ready to walk away from them again. “Merlin, why?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Merlin hesitated, the words he had kept buried for so long threatening to spill out. He glanced between them, the pain in his eyes unmistakable. “Because… because I don’t have a real place in your lives anymore. The marriage… it was a reminder that you two are the real thing, and I’m just… I’m just a toy. Something you’ll eventually grow tired of. I couldn’t stay and watch that happen. It would kill me slowly.”
Arthur’s heart broke at Merlin’s words, guilt and sorrow twisting inside him. He reached out, placing a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, trying to anchor him, to stop him from slipping away again. “Merlin, you’ve got it all wrong,” Arthur said, his voice trembling. “The marriage wasn’t meant to push you away. It was to show stability to the kingdom during the war. It was never supposed to make you feel like you were anything less than essential to us.”
Gwen knelt beside Merlin, her eyes pleading with him to understand. “Merlin, you are a vital part of us—of this relationship. We’ve been idiots, caught up in the chaos of war and duty. We thought… we thought you knew how much we love you, how much we need you. We never wanted you to feel like you didn’t belong.”
Merlin blinked, his confusion evident. “But… I saw you together, planning the wedding, managing the kingdom… I thought you didn’t need me anymore.”
“Merlin,” Gwen whispered, her hand gently touching his cheek. “We need you more than you know. You’re not just a part of our lives—you are our lives. We didn’t get married to push you away. We’ve always been stronger together, the three of us. We thought you understood that, but we see now that we failed to show you just how much you mean to us.”
Arthur nodded, his grip on Merlin’s shoulder tightening. “We should have talked to you, made sure you knew the truth. We were so caught up in our duties that we didn’t realize you were slipping away from us. We’re sorry, Merlin. We love you. We always have, and we always will.”
Merlin’s eyes filled with tears, the weight of his loneliness and misunderstanding crashing down on him. He had spent so long believing he was an outsider, a temporary fixture in their lives, that he had almost missed the truth. He looked at Gwen and Arthur, seeing the sincerity in their eyes, the love they had for him.
“I… I thought I lost you,” Merlin whispered, his voice breaking.
Gwen pulled him into a tight embrace, her own tears falling freely. “Never,” she promised. “You’re home now, Merlin. You’re with us, where you belong.”
Arthur wrapped his arms around them both, holding them close as the first rays of the morning sun warmed the earth around them. They stayed like that for a long moment, the three of them reunited at last, the fear and pain of the past two years beginning to fade.
As they finally stood, ready to walk back to Camelot together, Merlin felt a sense of peace settle over him. He had almost lost everything, but now he knew—truly knew—that he was loved, that he was wanted, and that he had a place beside Gwen and Arthur forever. It would take some time for things to go back to what it was, or maybe they wouldn't be like itt was and maybe that was a good thing.