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for a very, very long time now, merlin's already known that you were amazing, long before he even knew you. your stories had long since begun to unravel in front of him, always just out of his reach, and he had become the only true audience to you in your entirety — no matter how many forget, how many singularities were fixed and how many memories were taken, merlin would never forget. he owed you that much, he thought. oh, savior of the world and all that lived and breathed upon it, past and present and future; oh hero, who no one would remember once everything was said and done and all had moved on; merlin will remember you for eternity, and every forever after that.
of course, he had to include himself eventually. he couldn't not, not when he knew that he could. babylonia was proof of that, and then truly becoming your servant even more so, and merlin was overjoyed… well, as much as he could be, anyway. watching your stories unfold was different than being a part of them himself, and he will admit that there was something magnetic about you; time and time again, merlin catches himself in the moment and thinks: ah, no wonder you're so beloved, master.
and that love was intoxicating. merlin was spoiled for choice, really, among both staff and servants (though he took his pick of the former more than the later; he was a sensible man who possessed no wish for death and suffering upon himself, after all), because all of their emotions and thoughts and desires were so potent that merlin was dizzy the first few days after his arrival in chaldea. where he found respite from staff who respected and admired you, he only further found himself in a dizzying swirl of love-love-adoration-devotion-obsession from the servants that surrounded you. it was funny, at first. you didn't even seem to realize how you had so many powerful individuals wrapped around your little finger, eager for every scrap of your praise and every bit of your attention.
it became less funny and more interesting when merlin found himself falling for your charms, or maybe he's grown to like the taste of you — your warmth, your stubborn nature, your impulsiveness, your love. oh, merlin's never met someone who loves quite like you; unconditional and all-encompassing, like your servants were not servants, and instead friends and family and lovers. it was not in your nature to be cruel and petty, merlin thinks, even when you were wronged or hurt or belittled; you would be angry, perhaps, maybe upset and pushed to the brink of tears, because you were human and it was inevitable, but you never stooped so low as to hate and anger with all of your being. merlin's sure that you don't have a malicious bone in your body.
merlin's seen many a hero atop his ivory tower; he's been reason for some of them existing, even (namely, one particular king wielding a magnificent sword), but even among them all, merlin thinks that you're special. one of a kind, even. if merlin were kinder, he'd say that you were amazing, even if you weren't one of the greatest; unfortunately, he isn't, and instead he is incredibly biased towards the master he's come to care to much about. as such, he thinks you're the grandest master there is.
your journey is a perilous one, of hardship and suffering; an never-ending uphill battle, sisyphean in its nature, but merlin knows you will never fail. you will falter, you will cry, you will lament, but you will never fall; you will never give up, and merlin commends you for it. he won't interfere much, because it's still your story at the end of the day, and there's little merlin can do to alter the course of it, but he can do his best to make the ground a little softer beneath your feet.
may flowers bloom wherever you step, master. your journey has yet to end, and merlin will make sure to be by your side for every minute of it. that love you give him, he'll return tenfold.