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Merlin...Merlin... He was sleeping, tired. So tired. Merlin didn't even try to flinch as he slumbered on within his prison. Everything was slow, he felt so peaceful, so at rest where he was. So much better than the chaos that ensued when Arthur fell in battle. His world was torn upside down since that fateful event, which left him vulnerable to Vivian to seal him within the tree. After spending so much time fighting and attempting to break free of his prison, Merlin had succumbed to simply sleeping until he was roused once again to serve his king. Years had turned into decades which turned into centuries.

There was a mighty crack. His blue eyes flew open. Merlin... The sorcerer blinked, still sluggish, still so much one with the Hawthrone that surrounded him. Slowly, he turned his head up towards the top of the tree. Sunlight poured through. The voice that had beckoned him drew him towards the light. Why was the voice so familiar? He groaned, stretching limbs that had not been used in forever, and climbed towards the sunlight. The tree bark bit into his bare skin as he moved. Almost there. Almost.

He gave a great gasp and shudder when fresh air rushed into his lungs. Merlin leaned against one of the stronger branches that had protruded from the tree and savored the sweet taste of fresh air. Had it been so long? He'd lost count when he threw himself into sleep. He could feel every prick of jagged bark dig into his flesh, the very thrum of magic coursing through his veins and caressing his skin. Freedom. But who had awakened him.

Slowly, he eyes opened to spot a familiar grinning figure at the base. It couldn't be...could it? His heart thudded in his chest.

And yet there he was. Arthur. Standing as he had in the height of his reign. Merlin could only gawk in his shock and joy to see his king alive and well. And if the once and future king was standing before him, and he free of his prison, it only meant one thing:

Albion needed them.

Description
Merlin...Merlin... He was sleeping, tired. So tired. Merlin didn't even try to flinch as he slumbered on within his prison. Everything was slow, he felt so peaceful, so at rest where he was. So much better than the chaos that ensued when Arthur fell in battle. His world was torn upside down since that fateful event, which left him vulnerable to Vivian to seal him within the tree. After spending so much time fighting and attempting to break free of his prison, Merlin had succumbed to simply sleeping until he was roused once again to serve his king. Years had turned into decades which turned into centuries.

There was a mighty crack. His blue eyes flew open. Merlin... The sorcerer blinked, still sluggish, still so much one with the Hawthrone that surrounded him. Slowly, he turned his head up towards the top of the tree. Sunlight poured through. The voice that had beckoned him drew him towards the light. Why was the voice so familiar? He groaned, stretching limbs that had not been used in forever, and climbed towards the sunlight. The tree bark bit into his bare skin as he moved. Almost there. Almost.

He gave a great gasp and shudder when fresh air rushed into his lungs. Merlin leaned against one of the stronger branches that had protruded from the tree and savored the sweet taste of fresh air. Had it been so long? He'd lost count when he threw himself into sleep. He could feel every prick of jagged bark dig into his flesh, the very thrum of magic coursing through his veins and caressing his skin. Freedom. But who had awakened him.

Slowly, he eyes opened to spot a familiar grinning figure at the base. It couldn't be...could it? His heart thudded in his chest.

And yet there he was. Arthur. Standing as he had in the height of his reign. Merlin could only gawk in his shock and joy to see his king alive and well. And if the once and future king was standing before him, and he free of his prison, it only meant one thing:

Albion needed them.