At first, Merlin can't believe his eyes. Really can't, because he's had this dream so many times, how can he possibly know he isn't about to wake up. But it's all so real, the feeling of grass under his fingers, the chill of the wind, the smell of the lake.
He stumbles to his feet and nearly falls over himself in his rush to get down to the water. "Arthur! Arthur!" Tears blur his vision and he blinks them away furiously, not wanting to miss a moment.
He knows he looks different, dressed in modern clothes, but at least he'd returned to his younger age not too long ago. At least his face is one Arthur knows.
The shouting gives him a direction to look to, a familiar voice and face that knock some of the world back into place, though Arthur gives the wizard a sharp look.
"Merlin? What the hell are you wearing?" Yep, focusing on what makes slightly more sense than the fact he should be dead.
But he knows Merlin. So once he reaches dry land, he slowly sheathes his sword, running a hand over wet hair to dry it off a bit.
It doesn't take long for Merlin to reach him, and god, he looks exactly the same as he did when Merlin sent him out on that boat, only healthy and strong and alive again. And he's criticizing Merlin's clothes.
A sob bubbles up in his throat as he reaches him and he throws his arms around Arthur, pressing his forehead against the other man's as he desperately seeks out Arthur's pulse with one hand. "You're here. You're really here." Arthur's told him many times in many ways not to cry over him, but when has Merlin ever listened?
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He stumbles to his feet and nearly falls over himself in his rush to get down to the water. "Arthur! Arthur!" Tears blur his vision and he blinks them away furiously, not wanting to miss a moment.
He knows he looks different, dressed in modern clothes, but at least he'd returned to his younger age not too long ago. At least his face is one Arthur knows.
no subject
"Merlin? What the hell are you wearing?" Yep, focusing on what makes slightly more sense than the fact he should be dead.
But he knows Merlin. So once he reaches dry land, he slowly sheathes his sword, running a hand over wet hair to dry it off a bit.
no subject
A sob bubbles up in his throat as he reaches him and he throws his arms around Arthur, pressing his forehead against the other man's as he desperately seeks out Arthur's pulse with one hand. "You're here. You're really here." Arthur's told him many times in many ways not to cry over him, but when has Merlin ever listened?