Aaaaaand back with part 2! Thanks to all who followed, and big thanks to katierosefun and LifeIndeed for reviewing! (And LifeIndeed-you are absolutely right about the museum thing, I completely missed that! It is now fixed :-))
Well, without further ado...

Of Old Swords (and Older Warlocks)-Part 2

Excalibur's magical pulses led Merlin directly to the local museum, which he had no trouble getting into. A simple unlocking spell does wonders. The pull of magic got stronger the closer he got, beckoning, calling, consuming him.

The warlock strode through the halls of the museum, determined to possess the sword. It had been over a thousand years. He had waited long enough. There was also the fact that the incessant call the sword gave off was enough to drive Merlin absolutely mad. He needed the sword, if only to keep what little sanity he possessed.

"Tospringe!" he commanded with a bit too much force. The security gate in front of him blew off of its hinges. Merlin stared at it for a moment, before shrugging and stepping over the damage.

Well, more like tripping over the damage. Merlin squinted and rubbed his head as he pushed himself up. His eyes wandered around the large room, before fixing on the center-most pedestal.

There it was, in all of its beauty. Excalibur seemed to light up the otherwise dark display room, emanating a faint golden glow from atop its display stand. Merlin's eyes stayed glued to the shining blade as he quick-stepped across the room and hopped over the velvet rope serving as a barrier.

Finally reaching it, Merlin reverently picked Excalibur up off of its stand. He could not hold back the relieved grin that broke out on his face as the magic of the sword intertwined with the magic in his veins, a feeling he had not felt in so many years.

The warlock ran his finger along the blade, recalling the many hours of sharpening and polishing, that time he had made up that ridiculous legend to get Arthur to pull it out of the stone (which ironically had been cemented as truth in the modern history books), and how many times that sword had saved his—

"Freeze!"

Merlin's head shot up. A dozen police officers surrounded him and the sword, guns drawn.

"Good evening, officers," he said, blinking in confusion. "Erm….what exactly are you doing?"

A burly man, obviously the head honcho, stepped forwards. "What are we doing? Lad, I might ask you the same question."

Merlin's eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, right. I was just retrieving this sword here."

"By breaking into a secure vault?"

Merlin cocked his head, glancing at the wreckage that remained of the blown-down security gate. "This is a secure vault?"

One of the younger officers was getting jumpy. "Hands on your head!" he commanded, aiming his gun. "Drop the sword."

The warlock's gaze went down to the sword within his grasp. Police were so irksome sometimes. "The sword of Camelot does not belong here," he explained patiently. "It belongs with its owner, which is me. I'm not looking for any trouble."

The chief barked a laugh. "You own Excalibur," he stated in disbelief.

Merlin nodded. "You're smarter than you look," he commented, grinning. He shoved the sword through his belt and prepared to walk out, planning to perform the location spell back at the tower. "Thank you for your understanding," he said to the surrounding authority.

"Wha? I was being sarcastic, you bloody idiot!" the man exclaimed. "Now put your hands up and get on the ground!"

Merlin rolled his eyes. Did these guys seriously think they could take him? "This is my sword! You cannot arrest me for taking my own sword."

"And who do you think you are? King Arthur?"

Merlin was fed up with the incompetence of society. He set his feet and gazed at the offending officer, hand strangling Excalibur's hilt. "No, I'm his manservant—Merlin. I also happen to be Emrys, the most powerful warlock this world has ever known. I have single-handedly saved Camelot more times than I can count, and don't even get me started on Arthur himself, all the while polishing armor and scrubbing floors and drinking poisons and you don't even want to know about his laundry. Oh, and then there's all the times I have saved the rest of the world since Arthur's death. I've lost count! But you know what? That is beside the point! The point is that I am the last surviving member of the royal household, and the sword of Camelot is rightfully mine! So, if it's not too much trouble, Let. Me. Through."

The officers had stood frozen throughout the red-scarfed man's monologue-styled outburst, all feeling varying degrees of shock, disbelief, and mirth. The chief detected the man's increasing hostility and locked eyes with one of his officers.

"Calm down," he said, turning his gaze back to Merlin and raising his hands in a placating manner. "I believe you have been using some serious hallucination substances, and I need to take you to a facility…."

Merlin threw his hands up in utter frustration, eyes narrowing. "I am a thousand year old warlock who has waited long enough! This sword appearing out of nowhere could only mean one thing, and if you do not get out of my way, you will feel the power of Em—"

Merlin let out a choked gasp as his body suddenly spazzed, an electric shock running through his body. His joints locked as he twitched for several seconds before falling to the ground.

A petite, uniformed woman grinned from behind the unconscious (and obviously high) man, her tazer raised in triumph. The chief nodded his approval. "Let's get this guy to the rehab facility. He needs some serious help."

Merlin furrowed his brow. What was the matter with his head? Had he been at the tavern again? He heard a blur of voices above him.

"Drug tests came back negative—"

"—doesn't make any sense—"

"He's waking up—"

Merlin forced his eyes opened, a bright light assaulting his senses and temporarily blinding him. Not Camelot, he thought. Not the tower, not Avalon….And then his brain caught up to the present. The museum, the police, the tazer, the sword…..the sword!

Merlin shot up on the stretcher, ignoring the frantic exclamations of the nurses wheeling him along. Where was the sword? "Where's my sword?!" he asked in panic. "Excuse me?" one of the nurses asked in confusion.

Merlin jumped off of the stretcher, grabbing the startled nurse by the shoulders to avoid collapsing. What did they do to his head? The world was spinning! Wait, sword. Right. "Excalibur," he exclaimed, eyes boring into the poor nurse's. "Where did it go? What did you do with it?"

Several other staff members grabbed him, wrestling him back. Merlin staggered. "Let me go!" he exclaimed, straining against the hold. "I need that sword!" His fist shot back, connecting with someone's nose.

"We need back-up!"

"Get security up here, now!"

Merlin's eyes flashed gold, sending the staff restraining him flying into the wall. He paused for a moment, almost feeling sorry for them.

Until a group of security guards came running up the hall. "Freeze!" one yelled.

Merlin performed a quick healing spell on his spinning head before doing the opposite.

He ran down the hall, hyper-aware of the startled exclamations as the guards found the unconscious bodies, and the footsteps that pounded after him. Merlin took a random corridor going left, and then a right, trying to simultaneously evade the pursuers, locate the sword, and find an exit.

Merlin rounded another corner, and then another—never stopping, his only priority being to follow Excalibur's pull and get the heck out of here and where exactly was he—

There. The sword was in the building, that much was certain. Merlin finally found the stairwell, descending the steps two at a time. Three flights down he entered a new hallway. Merlin began to jog, feeling the pull increase.

He was so close, he was nearly there, Excalibur was two doors down—

"I got 'im!"

Merlin hit the floor, the wind leaving his lungs with an "oomph!" He then grunted as his head hit the ground, and at least ten security officers dog-piled on top of him.

He must have blacked out for a moment, because the next thing the warlock knew he was blinking woozily, getting hoisted to his feet and his arms being held behind his back. His eyes widened, and with an indignant "Oi!" he began to struggle anew.

Magic didn't even cross his mind as he bucked and wiggled, his shouts of protest intermingling with those coming from the room two doors down.

"Hey! Let me go!" Merlin exclaimed.

"Unhand me, you insolent fools!" a masculine voice from the aforementioned room shouted. The odd wording didn't even register with Merlin, for he was too preoccupied with his own problems.

"I just need the sword!" he yelled in desperation.

"How the heck did you come into possession of that?" the voice exclaimed in mingled surprise and fury.

"I am a warlock, you nitwits, and I—"

"I am the King of Camelot, you morons, and I cannot be restrained by the likes of—"

Merlin was dragged into the room, still struggling. On the other side of the room, a blonde haired man was in a similar predicament. Both men flailed and shouted wildly, not even noticing each other in their desperation.

"You complete prats!" Merlin shouted in annoyance, just as the blonde yelled, "You idiots!"

Suddenly, the room was silent.

Both men froze. Eyes widened.

And, barely daring to hope, Merlin raised his eyes to meet the ones of the man before him. The eyes of a man, dressed in chain mail and armor from at least a thousand years ago. The man, whose blue eyes swam with emotion.

The man, who suddenly found his cheek slammed unceremoniously against the wall. Merlin's captors were quick to follow suit.

Merlin ignored the hands pressing him to the wall, to busy staring at the familiar (and slightly squished) face in front of him. "Ar-Arthur?" he asked, voice cracking. The warlock blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the impending moisture plaguing his eyes.

Arthur cleared his throat and blinked as well, before deciding to bypass emotions and get to the point. "Merlin," he began. "I honestly have no idea what is going on. These men are somehow in the possession of my sword (which I could've sworn I left by Avalon's gate), I accidentally set fire to a metallic carriage as I was trying to find the invisible horses that must be pulling it, and some clot-pole knocked me out and brought me here, saying that I was 'high.' I assume he was talking about my rank, because I am in fact the King, but this is hardly the sort of treatment one would expect—"

Merlin sniffed and let out a choked laugh. "You are literally the world's biggest dollop-head!" he exclaimed. Arthur looked genuinely offended for a moment, before smirking and utilizing his foot (the only part of his body not restrained by five over-eager security workers) to kick his servant in the shin. Merlin opened his mouth to reply, but one of the guards beat him to it.

"'Ey! Stop yer movin'!"

Arthur grunted as his head was lifted, before being slammed to the wall again. "Okay, okay, I get the picture," he announced to the guards. "Thanks for the headache!" He then furrowed his brow in confusion. Wait, didn't Merlin have magic? Arthur recalled a conversation from long ago, the first conversation in fact. "I could take you apart with one blow." "I could take you apart with less than that." Arthur met his servants eyes, raising his eyebrows. "Can't you just say a magic word and warlock-ify our way out of this?"

Merlin's eyes widened. The thought of magic had completely escaped his mind. At his blank look, Arthur rolled his eyes. "You are still an idiot," he muttered.

Merlin's eyes flashed gold, and the men holding them went flying to the other side of the room. Another flash, and Excalibur lifted itself from a security guard's belt and flew into Merlin's outstretched hand. "And you," he said, presenting the sword to the King, "are still a prat."

Arthur smiled as he took the sword. Without warning Merlin engulfed Arthur in a hug. "I'm glad you're back," he said. Arthur hugged him back with no hesitation. "Glad to be back," he answered.

Merlin pulled back, suddenly slapping Arthur in the face. "What was that?!" Arthur asked in indignation, rubbing his reddening cheek.

"Do you have any idea how long I have been waiting?" Merlin exclaimed.

"I—"

"One. Thousand. Years. I am over one thousand years old, and it's all your fault!"

"Merlin, I think—"

"No, I understand perfectly. You've been living it up in Avalon, swapping war stories with Lancelot and Freya and who knows who else, and meanwhile I have been saving the world in the disguise of a crazy old nameless man and—"

"Merlin!"

Merlin paused mid-rant, glaring at Arthur. "What?!"

Arthur gestured to the rest of the room with his sword, indicating the waking security guards.

"Run?" Merlin asked, nostalgia quickly replacing his anger.

Arthur laughed, slapping Merlin on the back. "Just like old times!" he exclaimed, running out the door.

The warlock threw his head back and laughed, running after his King. The two sides of the same coin were reunited at last.

And as Arthur and Merlin sprinted down the halls, thwarting security guards and having absolutely no idea where they were going, they could not help but grin.

Just like old times, indeed.

The End

So, good? Bad? Hilarious? Horrible? Awesome? This was written on a random (but fun) whim, so I would love to hear some feedback! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!