So I bet you guys thought that last chapter was it, huh? Wrong! I got a little Epilogue for you. I just couldn't resist.
Okay, so this is really it, but I have some ideas for a sequel in mind, but I'm not sure if that would be pushing it or not. What do you think? Sequel, or not sequel, that is the question.

Once again, I thank you for all the wonderful reviews, and I am glad for all of those who have stuck with the story throughout the journey. As always, merci, mon amis, merci.

Epilogue

Because the grass was still damp, the sounds of the wooden cart travelling across the field were easily muffled, save for a few squeaks here and there. It was so quiet that a person would have to be right next to the cart to be able to hear it clearly; that is, they would have heard it, if it wasn't for the loud chattering of the men who possessed the said cart.

"So, how do you think it all happened?" huffed the fellow somewhat tall, lanky fellow with a medium-sized build pulling the cart, gesturing towards the large, covered-up lump from within the cart.

The other man, about a head shorter that the first one but with a better build, walked ahead with a shovel over his shoulder. "Well, I heard from a reliable source that, after spendin' a night in the dungeons, she just snapped!" He said, abruptly stopping and turning around to scare the other man. It worked. "An' so she used 'er rotten magic to break out, then she followed th' prince around until he was alone. Once 'e was alone, she let loose on him and tore the place apart! Ravin' mad, she is."

The taller man, after having to recompose himself because of his fright, looked at his comrade, unconvinced. "Then how did the prince survive? Surely she was a witch; therefore she could have killed him without thinking. Do you even know how she died?" he asked, and in response the man with the shovel rolled his eyes.

"Did ya not see her body? There's a big 'ole in it! And besides," shovel-man snorted, "I asked my source that already. 'How did he kill 'er?' I says, and he tells me that they battled all the way over to the weaponry, and the prince grabbed a spear and trew it at 'er! Went right trew th' gut."

The man with the cart, once again, did not look convinced. "Who was this 'reliable source' that told you?"

"Jus' a guy I know – why?"

"Did you pay him for this story?"

"Yeah."

Tall-man sighed, "Of course." Deciding to drop the frivolous conversation, he changed the subject. Luckily, the new subject of topic was their destination, for they had just arrived. "We're here." He said, stopping by a small empty plot of land, with shovel-man stopping as well. He took the shovel off of his shoulder and aggressively jammed it into the ground. He began to dig a decent-sized hole.

Pulling the blanket back a bit, the taller man peered into the cart, scrutinizing the human face that lay within. The deceased person – obviously female – had deep red hair and a pale, lifeless face. "Too bad she was a magic worshipper; she is quite the pretty lady."

"That's how they all are," the other man grunted as he threw dirt over his shoulder, "drop dead gorgeous. That way, they can seduce ya and lure ya into their trap."

From there, the two men continued their conversation, trying their best to speculate what had happened just the other day. King Uther, although not knowing the true story himself, had decided to keep the story locked up from the public. Of course, that meant all of Camelot knew about the witch that tried to kill Arthur, but they knew none of the details, which forced them to guess for themselves.

Both of the guys burying the body were completely unaware of the fact that the one man who knew exactly what had happened was watching them from a distance. Lucky for the prince, it was the dead of night, so any chances of him being spotted were minimal. Arthur stood motionless, drinking in the reality that swam before him.

Adria was dead. She was gone.

He had watched her die; he had watched his love die, and it was perhaps one of the most painful moments he had ever endured. He couldn't save her, he couldn't have made her last moments any less painful, all he could do was sit there and watch her life slip away. Arthur, the prince of Camelot, the man next in line for the throne, never felt so helpless.

The fact that she had died in attempt to save his life haunted him more than anything. Those moments before she died replayed in his head over and over again, refusing to allow him the chance to wash away all the horror he has seen. It all was so clear in his head. He could easily remember seeing her standing by the door, a fiery look in her eyes. It was at that moment that he knew she truly had changed and that everything she had said was true. Arthur wanted to help her as she engaged in the magic battle with her mother, but he knew he was no match. All he could do was sit and watch as the Queen had cheated and killed her own daughter. By then, his anger had returned full steam, and before he knew it he was standing in front of the witch with his sword plunged through the Queen's body. Arthur had gotten his revenge, but it was a hollow victory. In the end, he felt no joy for the evil he had vanquished, only sorrow for the love he had lost.

Arthur had pulled himself out of his thoughts just in time to watch the two men grab Adria's body and throw her into the freshly dug hole, a wince slightly spreading across his face. Part of him wanted to walk away right then and there, yet the rest of him felt like he should stay longer so as to pay his respects. While he continued to watch, a voice appeared from behind him.

"I'm sorry, Arthur."

The prince took in a deep breath. Although he never would admit it, he was glad that the person who had found him was Merlin. He did not respond, however, but kept his eyes on the two men in the distance.

A long moment of silence ensued as the master and his manservant stood, unmoving as they watched as dirt was being thrown back into the hole. Finally, Merlin decided to break the silence, "She wanted me to give you this."

This tidbit of information had surprised Arthur. He turned back to look at Merlin, who was holding out some parchment. After staring at it for a while, he reached out his arm and gently grabbed the paper. His manservant gave a weak smile, patted him on the back in a friendly, consoling gesture, and then turned around and walked back the way he came. The prince looked down at the nicely rolled up parchment in his hands. How she was able to persuade Merlin to carry the letter, he did not know, but he was thankful that she did.

Glancing back up at the men, he saw that they had just finished putting the last of the dirt in the hole and were walking away. Exhaling a long breath of air, Arthur turned in the other direction and solemnly headed back to the castle.

Finally, he was able to accept the horrible reality that she was gone, never to return...