translation: out of sight; out of mind.

Merlin had learned many things through his years: he had helped Shakespeare write Hamlet, because he, too, had lost so many close to him; he had helped Charles Dickens write a Christmas Carol, because he had worked under many a man and seen the cruelty of his bosses and wanted to show them their wrongness; he had helped George Washington train his troops in Valley Forge, even despite America being tied to Britian, because he had seen the cruelty of the British crown and knew it would only end in bloodshed.

But, throughout all these years, Arthur had never came back. And the moment he had, he had ran.

Well, not literally, as he had disappeared using magic, but it sounds cooler instead of saying, "
and poof, he was gone. "

Because he was.

He had seen Arthur and Gwen together, and he had forgotten the pain it had caused him so many years ago.

He had seen Lancelot and Gwaine and remembered their deaths affecting him so, so much.

He remembered the hours of torture, mental imstitutions and therapy he had recieved when he had told people his secret that he had been servent to King Arthur; a Legend not all believed in.

He remembered dying a thousand deaths for King and Country; for Albion, for Britian, for France, for America. Not all of them have kings, but " king and country " sounds better than " for Democratic-Republican government and Country, " does it not?

Either way, Merlin was... slightly traumatized. And seeing what he thought to be untrue once more only scared him to the core.

But when he arrived at his home, he was reminded of something he had forgotten: the note that had stated Arthur was to return.

And he wondered how anyone could know that because anyone who could have, was, well, frankly dead until before Arthur woke up.

His main suspect would have been Kilgarrah if  he hadn't been with the dragon in his final moments.

And Merlin hadn't told anyone about his Camelot to anyone other than his therapist (in recent years, as the memories of torture only a few hundred years ago were so sharp in his mind), where he disguised himself as a man named Colin Morgan.

So, he was just plain confused.

And hyperventilating.

Which caused random objects to float through the air, the lights to flicker, and the terrible sound of nails on a chalkboard to be found in Merlin's home-away-from-Camelot.

It looked much like a scene crom a horror movie; the kid with weird, but slightly fashionable clothing choices having magical, scary powers he couldn't control. It was hella creepy.

Anyways, Merlin sat rocking back and forth as he remembered everything. He was faced with many dilemmas, and most stemmed from one question: had he hallucinated today? Was Arthur, Gwen and the Knights of the Round Table all part of his sick, drugged imagination? If so, how he could he deal with Arthur and Gwen's obsessive PDA (he had learned the term around 10 years ago when one of his students at the University of Oxford got in a lot of trouble for it. Merlin had done a lot in many years.) all over again? How could he pretend everything was medieval? How could he forget the thousands of years he had lived? What would he tell Arthur?

And, most of all, what would he tell his therapist?

//sorry this one is shorter. w/o translations & this note, it's about 570 words 😬 sorry. anyways, sorry for any errors; i'm pretty bad at editing. if u want, lmk what u think!! if not, well, just have fun lmao. enjoy my dramatic comedy fic (i can't rlly say what it is cos technically arthur came back from the dead, so??) anyways, lmk!! love u all!!