There are quite a few fics now based around the idea that Merlin is immortal so I thought that I might add my own to the mix.

Title is from the song by Queen

Warnings: mention of suicide

Disclamer: Merlin is property of the BBC etc.

He could not see the walls of the castle. He could not hear the people bustling about their daily lives. He could not feel the rain that clung to his skin. The only thing his mind could focus on was the knowledge. Knowledge that had changed his existence, literally, forever.

He should have realised years ago, when he had first heard Mordred utter his true name. A name he had tried so hard to deny, but had earned a thousand times over.

Emrys – Ambros – Immortal.

The druids had believed it some sort of reward when they explained why the Gods would not accept his life. That the rules of life and death did not apply to him. He was doomed to walk the Earth as an onlooker, unable to truly be a part of it, until the Earth itself died.

The dragon had been more understanding when Merlin had come begging for death. Both had seen friends and family die, both were survivors not only of Uther's rage, but of Arthur's love. Both had born witness to the rise and fall of the greatest king Albion would ever know. And both should have seen the other side of the shady veil of death long before.

And yet, if he chose, Kilgarrah could turn his back on the burden of life and seek refuge with his kin. So perhaps he did not fully understand.

Emrys thought again of the empty vial of poison, the blooded knife, the hangman's rope. All littered his chambers like a guilty secret unearthed. All useless and abandoned.

If Arthur still walked the Earth he would understand the desire, the need, to give his life for another. He might disagree that Merlin's life was worth less than his king's, but not before a jest to remind him that he had once been nothing more than a servant.

Gwen would be appalled, Gaius angry. Gwain, Lancelot, Elyan, Leon and Percival would perhaps have a flickering hope of understanding, if it was not stifled by their rage.

But none of the people he had once called 'friend' could voice their disapproval of his quest for death.

…

Over a thousand years after Camelot was lost forever and the names of the Once and Future king, his knights, and his most trusted advisor were condemned to myth and legend. One of their number still walks in the land of Alboin, now the United Kingdom, his existence a feeble reflection of the life he had once had. He has seen wars that no one ever believed might end, been so close to death that he could almost see again the faces of all those he had lost, before he was torn again from their welcoming arms.

He waits and watches for the moment when destiny calls upon him again, and perhaps, selfishly, he prays that the world will turn to dust just so that he might not have to take another step without those he had come to love by his side.