It wasn't until years later, the group of them on a hunting expedition, that Merlin trusted them with an explanation. It was sudden and quiet and completely of his own accord. No one would have had it any other way.

The moon shone high above them, making diamonds of the raindrops holding on to leaves in the forest. Its reflection, bright against the calm waters of the lake- her lake, was another beacon calling lost souls home.

What began around a fire, illuminating each friend's face with it's flickering orange dance, ended in darkness and dying ashes. With the moon as their guide, they made way to her shore. Gazing out at her memory and beauty, an unnamed hand found Merlin's giving a comforting squeeze.

Though no blame was placed on Arthur, every morning since when Merlin delivered Arthur's breakfast… there was a bowl of strawberries for Merlin.