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"If I had a thousand lives", Arthur recited, "and a thousand chances, I would lose the first of a thousand. I would lose friends, and grieve them. I would lose enemies and perhaps I'd grieve them to."
"I would", Merlin whispered, not sure what exactly had put Arthur in the mood to recite poetry- and he was reciting, he knew, because Arthur had attempted poetry before and it never sounded like this- but not wanting to interrupt it.
"If I had a thousand lives, and a thousand chances, I would live the first of a thousand as if it was not only a life, but a chance. A chance to live right or to live wrong, but a chance to live all the same, a chance to feel the air in my lungs and the country beneath my feat, the crown over my head and the soil under me, a chance to begin a story, and a chance to end it. If I had a thousand lives and a thousand chances, I would die and yet live, I would lose one chance and gain another."
Merlin hung on Arthur's lips, the words a rescue, not from the fear and regret about what he knew his immortality would bring, but from the fear of the unknown of it that had dragged him under ever since he found out.
The death of friends, he could handle. He'd faced that risk a thousand times. The death of Arthur, too, he would be able to handle, not only because of a promise of return, but, because though lose the other half his coin would no doubt break him, he knew how to be broken, how to carry the weight of things he couldn't carry, how to break under them and find laughs and joy in the midst of that sorrow, still.
Merlin, for better for worse, knew how to handle all kinds of things.
He knew how to handle the knowledge of being not human, and the pain he felt due to it.
He had known how to handle the knowledge Arthur might kill him after he was found out.
Sad truths, he could handle. What he had a lot more trouble with was uncertainty.
It had been a relief to know for certain he wasn't human, instead of just wondering one way or the other.
He had told Arthur about his magic in part because he wanted to know what his fate would be, because, good or bad he could handle, but the unknown he could not.
He didn't fear what he knew being immortal would be like. He feared because he didn't know. And now, as that delightful poem fell from Arthur's lips, that fear was slowly, finally, evaporating, being replaced with calm acceptance of the certainly of his fate.
"Something lost, something gained, something forever forsaken after the first time I lost a life, one in thousand, the soul under me and the king over me and the life behind me gone, the chance to enjoy all this, the first of a thousand chances, not erased, but used up, not a joy that was taken from me, but a joy I outlived."
Those words.
Not erased but used up. Not something taken from me, but something I outlived.
It was a guidance on how to deal with that first loss, a warning not to think less of joy because it was temporary.
He only had one life with his friends in Camelot. And couldn't stop the loss off that in the future. But he could enjoy what he had while he had it.
Wasn't that how he'd lived his life when he assumed he was just a mortal sorcerer, who was at the risk of dying all the time, if not from the magic, then from his adventures? Enjoying each day as it comes, one day after the other?
"If I had a thousand lives, and a thousand chances, I would live every dream I had, and every nightmare"
"If I had a thousand lives, and thousand chances, I would choose what to do with one life, and then have to choose again. I would take up an occupation, and then I would take up another."
What would Merlin do, after he had to give up this life? What occupation would he take up? He already had several ideas. He had a future. He didn't have a future with his friends and those dear too him in Avalon, the gates of which would be closed to him until the end of time, or until the goddess choose to realise him, whichever came first. He didn't have the future he wanted. He wouldn't have that for a long time. He didn't have the future he wanted. But he had a future all the same.
"If I had a thousand lives, and I thousand chances, what would I do with all that time? Learn. I would learn all that can be learned in one lifetime, and I would learn all that has to be learned over several"
Did Merlin have anything he wanted to learn that would take serval life times? He'd need to plan.
He hadn't thought like that for a long time, hadn't thought to plan anything in regards to his immortality, had done nothing but think about if there was some way for him to die, still. (Excalibur would probably work, but he wouldn't do that to Arthur)
And now, he wasn't planning his death, but his future.
He needed to thank Arthur for pulling him out of the suffocating darkness he'd found himself in after finding out he was immortal.
Arthur took a water break, and Merlin walked up to him from where he'd been sitting.
"Thank you", he said, using his magic to set the glass down after Arthur was done with it and giving him a hug.
"I don't know how you found that, but: thank you"
Arthur smiled at him. "You're not the only one who's dealt with immortality, Merlin. It was easy enough to do some research on the whole thing."
He glanced away. "You may not have me forever... But that doesn't mean you're alone"
He wasn't alone. It was everything Merlin had needed to hear, and yet, he wanted to hear so much more, wanted to hear those words over and over again until he'd never forget them, until he could truly believe it.
Luckily, the poem wasn't done yet.
"If I had a thousand lives, and a thousand chances", Arthur began again, I would live as long as a dragon, or perhaps longer, still."
Merlin startled at that. Athusia. He couldn't believe he'd forgot about Athusia. Dragons had a very long natural lifespan. He would be able to talk with her long after Camelot was gone. Not only that, but she'd been there. Not for everything, unfortunately, but she'd been an integral part in Camelot's golden age (a golden age that wasn't over, he reminded himself), but he'd be able to talk about Camelot with someone who'd been there. It was like hearing "your not alone" a second time, and he drank it in, and it still wasn't enough. And he'd lose her, too, eventually. His stomach lurched painfully at the thought. But he was trying not to think like that. He'd have her, first.
Temporary joys didn't mean lesser ones, he reminded himself.
He'd need to write this poem down. Write his own even ,for any other immortals that would happen in the future.
He was not alone. He wasn't the only immortal, even if he was only one of few. There was the fisher king, for one, and hadn't Merlin been the one who'd convinced the man too keep on living, after he'd helped out with the tower, and the land and it's king slowly began to heal? He wasn't alone. They wouldn't leave him alone, the very poem he was now so desperately holding on to was prove of that. He vowed he wouldn't leave them alone either.
"If I had a thousand lives, and a thousand chances, I would live as long as a kingdom, and perhaps longer, still. "
He would lose Camelot. That was inevitable, unavoidable. But he himself was a piece of Camelot, and even if he'd lose Camelot, the world wouldn't lose her.
He'd carry the memories with him, write them down, tell them to whoever was willing to listen.
He made another vow, that moment. (And a mental note to himself that he should probably write all of his plans down somewhere)
Camelot, Arthur, the round table, they would not be forgotten. They'd be immortal with him, if only in memory. He'd make sure of that.
"If I had a thousand lives, and I thousand chances, I would change as the world changed, as nature shifted, as old mountains got flattened and new ones sprung up"
Who would he be, after a thousand years? He didn't know. But perhaps, he could have a little faith that wasn't necessarily bad thing. He knew what wouldn't change, knew he would always love Arthur, and carry him with for those thousand years, in memory if nothing else. He'd be, above all the other, more worrying possible changes, someone who'd learned a lot. He would become skilled at healing magic eventually, and if he'd previously joked that would take him a thousand years and serveral lifetimes? Well, he had those now, didn't he. He'd experience so many things, fulfill all, or most of his plans (he had plans now, actually, honest-to-god plans for the future, he had a future he could believe in, he had plans that would maybe take longer than even the thousand years he'd need to wait for Arthur returns) he'd be able to have something to show for his life, to show to Arthur, when he finally returned.
He could travel the world, see everything, remember everything that had passed and gone in a place a century after it existed, and the thought, which had previously scared him, was now a pleasant one. Temporary joys were still worthy ones, and he'd share them with the world. Maybe he could become a historian, for some time at least. Maybe he'd pick a fight with one, over something he'd been there for, that someone else thought they knew about more than him. Probably both would happen eventually. Definitely, if he was being honest with himself.
He'd be a little lonely, perhaps, at times. But if joy could be fleeting, then so could loneliness. He'd simply have to take each day as it came. Like he'd always done.
Being immortal was perhaps not so different from being mortal, in some respects.
"A thousand lives, and a thousand chances, a chance for joy and a chance for sorrow, a chance for pain and a chance for healing, a chance for good and for bad, each life a chance, and each chance a life",
Right. Live always had, and always would have, it's ups and downs. Merlin knew people -often the slightly paranoid kinds- who took care to always remind everyone that something could go wrong, then even in the brightest of times, their could still be sorrow. Merlin had always scoffed at them, not because he didn't believe the words, but because he didn't need the reminder. Perhaps he did need the reminder that something could always go right. That even in the darkest of times, their could be hope. It was easy, at times, too forget that. Thankfully, his friends wouldn't let him. And his friends, new and old? He wouldn't let them forget either. Even if it was the last thing he did, even if it was the only thing he did, he would spread the world. If he was cursed to exist for as long as the world did, he would tell that world one thing. There was hope. Even in darkest of times, even in the midst of the greatest sorrow? A small bit of hope was still hope, a small bit of joy was still joy, and it was there, and he'd make sure it was valued. He'd value it, like the precious thing it was. And he did have it. He had hope, and he had joy, and he'd hold onto it with all he had.
"If I had a thousand lives and a thousand chances, I would lose the last of a thousand. If I could only die after a thousand lives, than I could still die, if I had a thousand chances I would still run out. And in the end, even the immortal shall join his friends in death, and the life afterwards."
Right. He could- would, still die. Even if it would take until the end of the world, even if he had too wait that long, he would die in the end, and join his friends in the afterlife. He didn't mind that. Looked forward to it, even, but perhaps he could look forward to live as well. He certainly didn't mind it anymore. Looking forward to it was one small step further. A step he would take eventually, even if took a while.
And, if getting to that point would take time?
Well, he had time aplenty, didn't he?
"And if I had a thousand lives, and a thousand chances, I would spent the last of those telling my brothers they are not alone. I have had a thousand lives and know I near the end. I have had a thousand chances, and will spend the last of those chances leaving my soul behind, on this paper, and in this poem, ensuring I remain on this earth still, if only in spirit, thoughts and memory."
Merlin suspected someone had written this who had lived these thousand lives they spoke of, he had understood them enough that the fact they were writing this at the end wasn't a suprise. But nothing could have prepared him for those final lines.
"And if you have a thousand lives, and a thousand chances, then you are not alone"
And, just like that, the world was right again.
He'd thanked Arthur -again- after the poem was over, had told him he'd helped so very much. had told him he was a great narrator too.
And when Merlin had told him he wanted to copy the poem down and carry it with him everywhere, and Arthur handed him a copy and told him that was already taken care of, the world wasn't big enough for his gratitude.
Arthur was a very good friend, and didn't think what he'd done was anything special, but that wasn't going to stop Merlin from complementing him, or Arthur from accepting his compliments, all be it a little grudgingly.
Arthur wasn't the only one Merlin owed his thanks too, however, and so, when he retired too his chambers for the evening, Merlin took out his pen, and began to write.