Merlin's magic (Oneshots)

Haunted

London

About 1500 years after Arthur's death

POV: Merlin

If there was one thing that Merlin despised about being immortal, then it would be aging. Now, he didn't necessarily have to age. But he hadn't always known that. Or perhaps, he hadn't always been able to.
Merlin had spend centuries walking around as an old man, mostly focusing on breathing. His lungs weren't the best when he was old, he could barely move and his back hurt like hell.

But with his age grew his powers. And eventually, he figured out a way to stop the never ending feeling of dragging himself through life.

Since he found out about this life saving magic trick, he just stopped aging completely. He suffered for so long. He deserved a comfortable lifestyle.
How that magic trick worked was his personal secret.
One which he would have to perform on others.

For one, he didn't want anyone else to share his burden of immortality.
For another, he didn't want anyone to know he was immortal.

He knew what governments do to freaks like him. That is, if they ever caught wind of him. He wouldn't be able to explain it. They would try and take his magic from him, if they considered him a threat.
Or replicate it for weapons.
Or make money of it by promising rich people eternal youth.
Or...

No.

There were too many things that could go wrong if anyone knew his secret. Many more than the ones listed above. Too many to ever even risk it.
He slipped up sometimes, of course. With individuals he shared a certain amount of time with.
But only those he trusted.
Betrayal cuts hard. But if matters came to worse, he would just erase their memories. And lose them for good. But that was a risk worth taking, he supposed.

So, Merlin was careful. He changed his fashion sense every few years. His name and family tree every decade at least and the place he lived in about every five years. With the physical distance came emotional distance as well. He would meet new people or share their life with for a while.
And then never show up to anniversaries or funerals. And soon enough, people just remembered him as that guy they used to hang with.
Not many forgave him. But what choice did he have?

Merlin had to be careful.

"Ouch. Hot damn it!", Merlin cursed. He burned his tongue on his coffee, causing him to almost slip off the counter he was leaning on.

The apartment he lived in wasn't big, but comfortable. And most of all, cheap. Apartments were getting more and more expensive over the years. Good thing that he didn't have to worry about money much. He had made some really good investments back in the day. Of course with a little bit of help from his magic and a good hunch.
And if push came to shove, he still knew how to gamble with magically heightened luck.

Still, he preferred it cheap. It would be too obvious if a student like him was able to own a whole apartment. In fact, it was a shared one.
A small, mass building with walls that lost it's white from smoking inhabitants and the constant bumping of moving cartons against the walls.

His roommate happened to be really busy with sleeping around though. So that his room right next to Merlin's happened to be empty more often than not. To the point where Merlin sometimes wondered what he wasted his money on an apartment for.
He had never even seen the guy! He lived everywhere else, just not here. He liked to steal Merlin's favorite chocolate though.

Okay, perhaps 'never' was the wrong word. He did see him now and then, when he grabbed some spare clothes or stole food he didn't buy. Or when his latest companion kicked him out. Steven did do his chores, too. So he was many things, but not necessarily irresponsible. And not very bothersome or annoying in his lack of existence.