A/N You will probably wish to kill me round about now. But this was where it was going all along. It just needed to give them all a bit of a nicer ending is all. Now Arthur is surrounded by friends and has seen the product of his labours and well you get the picture.

I love you guys. Thankyou for reading and staying with me. For all the reviews and favourites and i hope it meets your expectations.

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Chapter 58 At the end of it all.

They stood on the battlements. Merlin eyeing Frige with blatant curiosity. "Could you have helped?" He indicated with long pale fingers out towards the retreating flags.

"I could not. We are not allowed to be so direct." At Merlin's incredulous expression Frige giggled slightly, "Even the Gods are subjected to rules Emrys. The lives of mortals cannot be taken so manifestly, we can create a path that will lead them to their ultimate fate, true, but we cannot make them walk it. Why do you think we took such a convoluted route to see you bloom?"

"I don't know. I guess it never occurred to me that Gods might be bound by regulations, just as much as we. It's…rather reassuring actually. I had worried that the triple goddess wouldn't like where this was headed and might retaliate." Frige's tinkling laugh rang out once more.

"Emrys, for all that Morgana was her last high priestess and therefore the largest link she had to this realm, she was still mortal, and you are our son. There is no greater bond than that. She would not interfere even if she could not when we were the instigators.

There has not been a child of the gods since before the first dragons walked the earth. You are so very special and protected by all of us." That was a startling revelation if ever there was one. Merlin still wasn't entirely sure how to deal with the fact he was a demi-god though it seemed to be getting easier every time he thought of it.

"So If Gods cannot interfere, how come I can?" It was something that had been nagging at him.

"You are not a full God, you carry our spirit but it is bound to mortal flesh. You have a foothold in both worlds. You are immortal but you can be hurt. You are our bridge, our anchor, you tie the realms together. What that means is that the rules in both will bend for you more than most. A high priest or priestess can interact with us in a limited fashion due to their strong magic though the Gods still usually need to send their wishes as riddles, portents if you will, we are not able to communicate with mortals without the prophecies, visions or dreams, they have to be vague or the compulsions would be too strong for them. People have a great desire to please the gods it is in their nature, we did after all create them, but it can be very destructive. Creatures of magic are protected even more and can stand our presence for a measure of time but even then we have to be careful not to outstay our welcome. It is the reason we started to withdraw in the first place." That hadn't answered his question at all, in fact Merlin now felt even more confused

"Then how can I be here, talking to people? Arthur never listened to me most of the time, most others dismissed me completely."

"Your humanity allows you to interact in a way that is denied us, though people will still be drawn to you and will wish to please you, though the compulsion is less noticeable. You make friends very easily Merlin it is all part of the charisma you exude. Everyone strives to better themselves in your company, it is possible that is the reason Arthur could be so irritable around you at times. I would hazard a guess that his natural urge to make you proud, would be battled by his external education and experiences in such a way that he would be very confused and take it out on the nearest body. That body usually being you." Frige sounded altogether too amused by that.

"We can speak to you, visit you and give you instruction like this because you are one of us, you will always be one of us. No one else will be able to see us or feel us, just as they will never behold the power under this castle. We are yours and you are ours. You know in your heart this is true." Merlin couldn't speak it was too much. An overload of sensation, he was drowning in it. Then just as before Frige took his hand stroking the back gently and a cool peace stole through him. The steady pulse of the earth turning slowly on it's axis beneath his feet, and his thoughts calmed.

"Know that we will also always be here. When you need us we shall know it and we will come." His eyes brightened with tears not yet falling and he felt such gratitude to know he would never be left completely alone.

When Mordred had first called him Emrys Merlin had foolishly thought to translate it. It had seemed so important to the boy and such a specific name had to mean something. Once he had of course he had tried so very hard not to think about what it could mean and wished his impulsiveness had never led to him discovering it. He had never shared his fears with anyone. Had tried to bury it not wanting to think of the implications. That he would live on, as all those around him died. Finding brief happiness with people, only for it all to be snatched away again in the inevitable march of the ages, until the end of time itself.

It had seemed such a cruel fate. Now however he still felt unhappy at the prospect of losing loved ones to the slow grind of centuries but he had found also a glimmer of hope. That he would also find contentment of sorts in the work given him by the gods and count the lives he would influence through the countless ages as what they really were.

A gift.

To be treasured whilst ever they lasted.

…..

The Saxons had been raiding all along the coast. Pillaging and then burning the villages to the ground. Slaughtering the innocents all the way through Caerleon, pushing further and further inland. King Silas, son of the late Queen Annis called on the treaty between his lands and Camelot for help repelling them and though Arthur was now nearing his 65th year and his commanders were some of the best in the kingdoms of Albion. He always oversaw the battles himself even if his days of swinging a sword were few and far between.

Merlin as always accompanied him, aging spell masking the fact he had not aged past the 24 year old body he had when his demigod power was awakened. It didn't make the magic he wielded with such skill any less potent, and the warlock always went everywhere with his king as did the Dragonlord corps and the battalion of knight mages lead by Sir Mordred and Sir Bedivere. These veteran Knights were both experienced in magical warfare, and the Saxons had proven they held sorcerers within their ranks that wielded a magic that was both unusual and very dark, poisonous almost.

The battlefield chosen was bleak and inhospitable but was perfect to trap the enemy soldiers in. The only problem came when the Dragon's were deployed. The steep sided and rocky cliffs acted as wind tunnels pulling the flames of their harsh breaths far further than anticipated, spreading the smoke and making visibility poor. It required careful manoeuvring, and for the most part it was extremely successful in decimating the ranks of invading soldiers.

The tragedy came in the first rays of the new day after a hard night of fighting by the light of dragon fire, when the wind had picked up and making the dissipation of smoke even more unpredictable. The dragons had roared down the main pass, spreading panic and mayhem. Laying down a sheet of flame that lingered long after the two adolescent dragons had wheeled away toward another lesser ravine. Bedivere, Mordred and a small band of exhausted knights were holed up in a side passage waiting for their chance at those soldiers who made it through the smoke screen and flames. They heard yells and sword clashes and over a dozen men came charging toward them from all directions.

In the chaos no-one noticed that some of those men had appeared from the pass their allies held their war tents. Those same tents that had been torched by the over zealous dragons and the damnable winds. It was only as the last of the smoke cleared and the faces of those they were fighting became visible once more that Mordred realised just who it was he had fatally pierced with his sword.

It was entirely accidental and he was forgiven with a dying breath, but Mordred would always blame himself from that day forward. Realising that Merlin had been so very right all those years ago, when he had told him that fate had a way of plying out regardless. For it was at Camlann, when the dread fire of Zoelphis, who had been the last high priestess reigned down from the sky in defence of Albion that Mordred did indeed have a hand in the death of Arthur Pendragon, once and future king.

Merlin Emrys took his body and laid his friend to rest in the lake of Avalon as he had done with loved ones before, as he would again, knowing that as Albion's guardian he would be able to call on his courage whenever Albion needed him. He had formed the circle of custodians, Gaius, Gwen, Arthur, Lancelot, Elyan, Leon, Perceval, Gwaine and Mordred. And when they were needed, Merlin would wake them, bring them forth, so they could protect their legacy once again.

He didn't say goodbye. For there were no goodbyes needed. He would see his friends again and walk together with them side by side.

…..

Let loose the hounds of war.

Let the dread fire of the last priestess

reign down from angry skies.

For brother will slaughter brother.

For friend will murder friend.

As the great horn sounds, a cold dawn at Camlann.

The prophets do not lie.

There Arthur will meet his end,

Upon that mighty plain.