I'M ALIVE! I know it's been an eternity and I'm sorry...I got really sick and then really distracted by school and exams. Hopefully you're still with me! This is the last official "chapter", but I've also written a sweet bromantic whumptastic Epilogue, which I'll be posting within the week. Enjoy! Leave me a review, if you'd like :D

I do not own these characters.

Previously...

"Arthur, Merlin is—was—very…special," Gaius chose his words carefully. "To restart his heart would take more than just a powerful sorcerer. It would take a special bond, one intertwined with fate. You say you will do anything to get him back. Are you certain of this?"

"I swear it upon my father's grave."

Gaius took a deep breath.

"Then it is you, Arthur. You must be the one to use magic."

Arthur squinted his eyes.

"Sire?" Gaius tilted his head, an eyebrow raised inquiringly. "Arthur? Did you hear me?"

Arthur continued to gape, listless as he drew in the nothingness of the wall behind Gaius' shoulder. His mouth parted slightly, forming noiseless words, as if trying to figure out what to say.

"Do you understand what it is I am telling you, Arthur?"

Arthur blinked his eyes a few times, jerking his head and finally meeting Gaius' line of sight.

"Yes. Yes, I heard you Gaius but…I cannot do magic. I don't under – why must I be the one to do it?"

Gaius looked down at the table sitting between him and the prince. He drew a weathered hand across the crags of the oak. A weary smile settled upon his lips as he gathered that he and the wood were probably about the same age now. The smile disappeared as he realized that Merlin's life had only lasted a fraction of those years.

Gaius had always known that there were several paths Merlin and Arthur's destiny could lead them down. Of course he had understood that the one before them now was a possibility, but in his heart he had never truly believed – never wanted to believe – that their story would take them here. At least, he had hoped it wouldn't. It was incredibly risky. He closed his eyes and let out a soft breath through his nose. There was no turning away now. All he could do was hope that Merlin's destiny knew what it was doing.

"Tomorrow at dusk – take his body to the forest. You have been there before. It is the clearing where you pulled Excalibur from the stone." Fresh tears fell from the old man's eyes at the memory. "Merlin showed you, remember? Lay him down on the stone. Then, you will wait. Bring no one with you. I'm afraid I can give you no further instructions than this. The rest will become clear to you once you do as I say, exactly as I have just said it. You must trust me. Do you understand?"

Arthur rose from the table abruptly, the old stool beneath him tumbling to the ground in the frenzied heat of his erratic movement. The King looked terrified. He pressed a balled up fist to his mouth, quickly shaking his head back and forth.

"Gaius, this is madness. Do you not hear yourself? Do you not hear the words coming from your own mouth? You cannot just tell me that I am to use magic and then send me on some senseless jaunt through the forest with absolutely no explanation. Why on Earth would I do as you have just told me?"

Gaius stood as well. Wordlessly, he crossed the room to Merlin's still form and knelt beside him. Gently folding back the sheet, the warlock's face filled the quiet room. He looked incredibly serene, as if he were caught in an eternal sleep, one blessed by an infinity of picturesque dreams. Gaius tore his gaze from the boy's body, stoically looking back at the King.

Arthur's eyes trailed over Merlin's peacefully lidded eyes. A grim current flowed through the room as several noiseless minutes ticked by before he finally cleared his throat.

"I will return for him this time tomorrow."

Arthur closed the door softly as he left, as if trying not to wake a resting child.

Arthur thought he had imagined it the first time. After several hours of travel, though, the faint whispers had risen in both frequency and volume.

Emrys.

Emrys.

Emrys.

The ghostly voices danced on the wet leaves of the forest, parting the fading light and settling in Arthur's ears like dust. Although they were beautiful, they disturbed him. It was as if they held a delectable secret and they were dangling it just outside his reach.

Emrys.

Arthur tightened his grip around Merlin's waist.

They had ridden out when the cloud-covered sun had drifted its way into the lower eastern quadrant of the sky. Arthur had waited uncomfortably in the courtyard, denying help from the passing servants.

They were curious.

Word of the King's breakdown at the training grounds the day before had spread like wildfire through the court and the lower town. The courtyard was nearly empty now – they had assumed Arthur was stricken with grief, and had left him to mourn in his chambers with strict orders from Sir Leon and the other knights not to disturb him. Yet, here he stood dressed in his armor and royal red cape, a light rain continually misting down from the dreary sky and a saddle stocked with supplies sitting atop his horse.

There was no point in being discreet about it, especially if it ended up working. If the King's manservant were to suddenly return from the dead, people were bound to notice. And so, Gaius descended the steps of the castle in plain view. A fleet of no less than five knights trailed silently behind him, despite the fact that Merlin could have easily been carried by one of them. The pale sheet covered him still.

Arthur swung himself up onto his horse as he spotted the dismal procession. When they reached his steed, Gaius stripped the sheet from Merlin's body and the knights smoothly lifted him up onto the horse in front of Arthur. As the King galloped out from the castle grounds holding tightly to his manservant, the subtle sound of murmuring drifted throughout the small group that watched him ride away, and word of the King's departure with the dead serving boy began to spread.

Magic, they breathed among themselves.

At first, the feeling of a dead man riding in his lap had troubled Arthur greatly. Merlin was thin and fragile, and his neck lolled disconcertingly against Arthur's chest. Eventually, though, he began to relax. He still smelled like Merlin, he still looked like Merlin, he still was Merlin. Arthur began to talk to him. With just the two of them riding alone in the woods, Arthur apologized. He said he was sorry for what had happened to him and that he would never truly forgive himself, even if he did somehow manage to bring him back to life. He called him names, and he laughed about all of the stupid things they had ever said and done to each other. He promised him everything would be okay.

Emrys.

Just as Arthur was beginning to fear they had passed it, the clearing came into view. It was as Arthur had remembered it. In the wan light, the empty stone glittered in the shadows of the rustling trees. His heart began to pound.

Arthur looked down at Merlin. "Ready, old friend?"

"You really are a girl, aren't you Merlin? Look at me, laying you down here as if you were a maiden caught in a swoon." Arthur feebly arranged his boneless limbs atop the smooth granite and brushed his dark hair away from his forehead. Gaius had dressed him in his usual scruffy outfit, but the red neckerchief and thin brown jacket did little to fully conceal the marks that still littered his paper white skin. Merlin had died with injuries that Arthur had given him. He shuddered.

Once he was satisfied that Merlin was comfortably laid out atop the giant stone, Arthur settled himself down onto the ground below his manservant. It looked too much like a funeral pyre. He rested his back against the smooth surface so he wouldn't have to look and waited.

Arthur was soon on edge. Every twitch of every leaf in every tree jerked his head every which way. An hour passed, and he began to feel a furious, burning hatred for Gaius. How dare he get his hopes up? The more he contemplated it, the angrier he became. The entire thing was completely and utterly ridiculous. Merlin was dead. Gone. The fact that he had ever believed he could be anything else made him feel like the entire universe was laughing at him. Arthur buried his eyes into the heels of his hands and tried to push the hot tears back into his sockets.

Emrys.

His head snapped up.

The sudden reappearance of the voices made Arthur realize just how long they had been silent. They began to fill the air now, swarming through the trees and clinging to the wind. Louder and louder they rose, and Arthur was on his feet, spinning in place rapidly and trying to catch their source.

The crack of a branch rang out through the cool air.

It started with a girl. A beautiful, blue-eyed little girl with dark hair and a shy smile. A Druid. She emerged from the black throat of the forest with the grace of a dancer.

One by one, they joined her. Hundreds of Druids, stepping out from the trees as if raised from the earth. Arthur gaped, wide-eyed as they flooded over the outer edge of clearing, linking hands in the twilight until they formed a giant circle that surrounded the king and the sorcerer. Although they continued to breathe and hiss that name, Emrys, he couldn't help but notice the excitement with which the younger Druids pointed and gasped not at him, but at Merlin. Even the elders' eyes seemed to light up at the sight of him.

And then all was quiet.

Suddenly, the tree tops began to bend and sway. Arthur tilted his head back, shielding his gaze with his hand. The wind howled and whistled, growing in intensity until it whipped Merlin's thin tunic against his frail body. And then…

It couldn't be. Arthur had slayed it. Merlin himself had said so.

And yet, here it was, dark and powerful and enormous, landing with surprising grace inside the circle of Druids. It folded its wings back into its body and settled back on its hind legs, towering over the King and his manservant and breathing heavily. For several long moments, it gazed down at Merlin, a mournful expression plastered on its regal face. Finally, it bore its eyes down upon Arthur.

Arthur, for his part, did his best to control the trembles that wracked his limbs. He was terrified, but he remained passive, back straight and expression blank and fearless.

The dragon spoke.

"These are quite the circumstances that bring us together, my lord. Destiny is a tricky thing, but it has been decided that this is the path we must take. We cannot ignore it."

Arthur could only stare, mouth agape. The dragon smiled at his confusion.

"My name is Kilgarrah. For years, I have counseled your manservant. He has a destiny, Arthur, one which has required him to protect you ever since he arrived in your court, at all costs."

Finally, Arthur found his voice. "I don't understand. Merlin is…was, my manservant." His manservant. His helpless, wise, defenseless, weak, brave, skinny, dopey manservant. If anything, Arthur had been the one to protect him. Yes, the man had been the most courageous self-sacrificing idiot he had ever met, but he had never been anything more than a servant, let alone destined for anything. How was he acquainted with a dragon, for God's sake? And why were hundreds of Druids surrounding them, right now, looking at Merlin as if he were some sort of heroic being? Who was Merlin? Arthur felt unease crawl beneath his skin.

Kilgarrah lifted his neck, arching it gracefully against the dimming sky.

"Merlin, has magic."

Silence.

"Merlin, Emrys, is the most powerful sorecerer who has ever lived."

Silence.

"Emrys has been destined to protect you since the dawn of time. With him by your side you, Arthur Pendragon, will unite the lands of Albion and bring a prosperity unmatched in history, one where magic and men move together as one. And you have killed him."

Arthur could have laughed. He could have cried. He could have felt anger towards Merlin, and he could have turned and run. He could have refused to believe. And yet, he knew. He knew that it was the truth. He and Merlin fit together like two pieces of a children's puzzle. He knew that. He had always known that. Always felt it. After everything they had been through, and with a bloody dragon sitting here in front of him, Arthur chose to accept the truth. It was all he could do. Later, when he had Merlin back, he could choose to be angry. The disbelief would come. Right now, though, he was hanging in a dreamlike state of shock at the things surrounding him, and all he could find the strength to do was believe.

He closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath.

"Alright."

Kilgarrah lifted his brow, a look of surprise settling upon his noble features. "Alright?"

"Alright. I believe you. What I cannot understand, though, is why such a great and powerful destiny would choose to kill Merlin, especially at my own hand. An accident, nonetheless. Why is that?"

"These things can be difficult to understand, Pendragon. You have been led here not only so you may finally understand Merlin's role in your future, but the role of magic as well. Magic is a grand and powerful force, greater than the entirety of all of humankind. Thus, fate has decided that it is with a simple, human mistake – your mistake – that you will come to realize the beauty in magic. What else has brought you here, Pendragon, other than your guilt? What else has led you here but your desire to bring Merlin back to life?"

"Just tell me what I have to do."

"You must accept magic, and you must accept Merlin."

"How?" Arthur was tired of speaking in riddles.

"When the young warlock died, his magic left his body. A power that great, larger than any other man's in history, does not simply disappear. It had no place to go but back into the earth. We will conjure it for you, and you must allow it to enter your body and use it to heal Emrys. His own magic is the only thing powerful enough to restart his heart, and only a man connected to him by the strands of fate may wield it."

Arthur felt his heart race. He nodded his head.

"Do it," he breathed.

It happened so fast. Arthur heard the voices of the Druids rise in unison around him and then they were spinning, spinning, spinning, faster and faster. Amidst the dizzying circle, Kilgarrah stood tall. Suddenly, three golden tendrils descended from the misty air above Arthur, slowly tangling their fingers down towards the King. They twined their way around his body, wrapping him up in a rapturous warmth. He felt a flood of liquid fire flow through his veins, making him feel as he had never felt before. It was as if he were somehow connected to the dirt below his feet and the branches above his hair, and he did not know why but somehow he knew what to do. Magic didn't make him feel evil. It made him feel alive.

Arthur pressed a glowing hand to Merlin's silent chest. He did not want to part with the power inside him, but still he allowed it to flow out of him and into his friend's body until he no longer felt it moving through his bones. He stared down at Merlin as the light that had been in him only moments before now crept its way over the boy's tranquil form and sunk into his skin.

Time seemed to stand still in the clearing. Not a Druid spoke, and Kilgarrah held his muted wings at his side. Even the sounds of the dimming forest seemed breathless, waiting.

Merlin awoke with a gasp, eyes snapping open only for a second, and not with their familiar sapphire, but glowing with a brilliant gold before they fluttered closed again. Arthur pressed his ear frantically to Merlin's chest, sobbing as he felt the faint but steady thrum of a heartbeat. He was alive.

Arthur rose, tears glistening on his cheeks and a smile lighting his face as he turned to thank those that surrounded him, but they were gone. The Druids and the dragon, evaporated as if they were never there to begin with. Arthur stood alone in the clearing with Merlin still laid out on the stone where he had pulled the sword, unconscious but living.

Sorcerer or not, Merlin was alive - and that was all that truly mattered to Arthur.

He lives! Stay tuned for the Epilogue...and drop me a review! I love hearing back from you guys.