This is a rather lengthy chapter so…be prepared. I'd totally understand if you want to go get tissues and come back because there are 3 major character deaths here…* ducks* please don't kill me! :s ( I trimmed this chapter down SO many times...that's what took me so long...but it still exceeds 10,000 words! * sighs* )

Anyway, this is supposed to be King Arthur's passing as I envisioned it from when I started writing this. It is really long and full of angst (TeglanL74 I know you'll love it ;D ) although it does have a happy ending! Sort of…

Thanks to everyone who has been with me through all the chapters and all the tears and such, I really cannot put into words how happy you've all made me. Even if you don't review but just read this chapter * ergo, I don't know you even came across this story* your still in my heart, stranger :D

First of all I have to thank everyone and everything who inspired me while writing the final chapter to my first story ever (If you count this and Camlann as a full story).

Many thanks and hugs to Captain Ozone, her amazing Young Hawk inspired one of the scenes from this chapter.

"Actually, I had to wake both of them," Hunith said. "Those two fell asleep on each other last night in Gaius's chambers."

So thanks Oz for your absolute brilliancy and for making this chapter possible :P

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Hugs to Colin Morgan. He mentioned somewhere, I believe in an interview, that for the 5th season he'd have a little stubble to show that Merlin was growing up, which makes sense since Mordred is going to be seventeen. Thanks Colin! Thanks to you now Merlin has a beard in this chapter :D

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Claps to the amazing Avatar by James Cameron (I won't give spoilers but there's a quote I used ;) )

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Bows and hat off to J.K Rowling for the Harry Potter series and for the lines that inspired a lot of this chapter too:

Taken from HP & The Half Blood Prince:

Harry wiped his grazed forearm upon the stone: having received its tribute of blood, the archway reopened instantly. They crossed the outer cave, and Harry helped Dumbledore back into the icy seawater that filled the crevice in the cliff.

"It's going to be all right, sir," Harry said over and over again, more worried by Dumbledore's silence than he had been by his weakened voice. "We're nearly there... I can Apparate us both back... don't worry..."

"I am not worried, Harry," said Dumbledore, his voice a little stronger despite the freezing water. "I am with you."

Lastly, kudos to the amazing Chris O'Donell: I was watching TV the other night and this old version of the three musketeers came on ( 1993) Can you guys believe that I was practically staring at Amhar in the face? O.o. I squealed and asked my friend what actor was that, Here it is. Chris O'Donell as d'Artagan. He is Amhar (body wise. In my mind he had hair way lighter and bright brown eyes) But seriously, it is him! The curls, the skin, the face! Oh. My God.

And you may have noticed there is now a feature for covers. This cover is a painting of King Arthur from the Renaissance, but it's supposed to represent Amhar ;)

Thanks for standing my rambling, Now, please enjoy the product of my overtired brain. :D

Sixth

Worth & Glory

But when that moan had past for evermore,

The stillness of the dead world's winter dawn

Amazed him, and he groaned, "The King is gone."

And therewithal came on him the weird rhyme,

"From the great deep to the great deep he goes."

-The Passing Of Arthur

Alfred Lord Tennyson

.

Thanks to our prophet

For this so wish'd for satisfaction;

And hereby now we learn that always fate

Must be observ'd, what ever that decree:

All future times shall still record this story,

Of Merlin's learned worth and Arthur's glory.

- THE CHILDE HATH FOUND HIS FATHER

ascribed to

William Rowley

.

And I know that you are always there, there
a moon made for me
always illuminated for me
because of me, because of me, because of me . ..

Andrea Bocelli "For You I'll Fly

A blond man glanced pensively in front of him, dark brown eyes lost in faraway memories and in more recent, urgent ones. His hands were entwined below his strong chin, supporting his face as he closed his eyes and pursed his lips.

It was a bright summer morning; a gentle breeze flew throughout the old construction as the castle, little by little, came to life. There was the laughter of young apprentices echoing through the hallways and the sound of easy spells that brimmed with the warmth of the rising sun. There was the teasing and banter of the knights, skipping through the stone corridors to reach the training field as they were challenged by their friends to run faster.

But this man, with his gentle gaze and powerful presence, looked lifeless and tense, as if the happiness and warmth of the new morning could not reach him. But then, as the sun reached the table he was sitting on, he smiled, perhaps remembering happier times…

"My Lord?"

Amhar, Prince of Camelot, snapped his head upwards as he heard the voice. It was a guard, licking his lips nervously and shuffling on his feet.

"What is it?" he asked softly, smiling at the man as only his mother would do. The man looked even more uncomfortable if it was possible and he started stammering.

But thankfully for him and for the now worried Prince, a figure came running down the hallway, never minding he was dressed with the attire of the Knights of the Round Table and that a good number of new citizens stared at him in confusion. Of course, there were those who already knew the red haired knight and just rolled their eyes at the scene that repeated itself each morning.

"Amhar!" Galahad called out as he tried to regain his footing, pushing the guard aside without a moment of thought. The man didn't took offense, though, he already knew what the knight was going to say, something that he had failed to blurt out thanks to his love for their gentle Prince.

Amhar approached the knight swiftly, placing a hand on his best friends shoulder "Galahad…?" He asked uncertainly.

Galahad looked at him sadly, and said, voice solemn.

"I think it's time."

"Seriously, Merlin, what is wrong with you today? You look like if I am going to lift the ban on magic all over again."

"What, there's something wrong with me being happy?"

"When you smile stupidly like that…"

"Oh, don't make me start on you and Gwen the day after the wedding…"

Amhar sighed heavily and shook his head in amusement at his father's and Merlin's banter but he couldn't help but wince at how weak his father's voice sounded. He caught Galahad's gaze and steeled himself before carefully opening the door to his father's chambers.

The High King of Albion was lying on his bed, a bunch of fluffy pillows propping him into a semi-sitting position. His face was illuminated by a wide smile while he retorted to his Court Sorcerer as heatedly as he could in his weakened state, something about it being "none of Merlin's business."

The man in question was sitting by the King's bedside, rolling his eyes at the moment, with one hand in Arthur's brow and another one holding a golden cup filled with reddish wine. There were few wrinkles on the corner of his mouth and eyes, as well as grayish hairs replacing his normally black locks on his temples. His lips tugged upwards in a smile that raised his gray beard too, and reached his lively – never changing- blue eyes, gleaming with humor and mischief.

"I may answer that question now that you're not fit to clobber me around with goblets."

King Arthur's eyebrows rose high, almost lost on his grayish blond hair and he snatched the goblet from Merlin's hand and threw it to his head with impeccable aim. Galahad and Amhar gasped and Arthur smirked triumphantly at Merlin's face, drenched in red wine.

The warlock looked unfazed by this, and with a movement of his hand he promptly got rid of the mess. He bent down to take the goblet from the floor but a low hiss passed his lips.

Amhar had to roll his eyes when his father bolted upright in his bed, narrowing his eyes at the part of Merlin's head that he could see. "Merlin?" he demanded.

Merlin grabbed the goblet and turned to Arthur with a smile "It's nothing, I have to remember that I'm not as young as I used to be, that's all."

Arthur rolled his eyes as he plummeted back to the pillows, breathing hard. It looked as if being upright took away all the color from his cheeks "Seriously Merlin, you should know. Didn't you do that back healing spell a few years ago?"

"It's wearing off, I guess." Merlin replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Awkwardly glancing at Galahad, Amhar cleared his throat. Both of the men looked at them, and Arthur smiled radiantly at his son.

"Amhar!"

The Prince advanced towards the King, sitting at the edge of the bed and placing a hand on his father's shoulder "How are you, father?" he asked softly.

Arthur clasped his son's hand on his own. It still amazed him how much Amhar reminded him of Guinevere, but yet his strong facial features were Uther's. Of course, the softness of those just eyes combined with the proud stance and leveled head made Amhar more than fit to be a King…and a great one.

It was true that all of Amhar's calmness and softness was balanced by his right hand, Galahad, with his cheerfulness and spark, with his annoying manners and little to none care for the rules. It warmed Arthur's heart to know that his son had a guardian by his side just as he had Merlin…

Speaking of which…

He looked over to his Court Sorcerer, who was talking quickly and quietly with Galahad by a corner. He could see what Merlin was talking about by Galahad's facial expressions, which made him fit for an actor if he wasn't such a much needed and exemplary knight. They ranged from worry to horror and sadness in an amazing speed and sharpness.

Because Arthur was dying…. and he knew it. The feeling of his strength slowly draining away was not something he liked and not something he was accustomed to…and it sincerely irked him, but what was he to do?

The diagnostic of the newly appointed physician had Merlin huff indignantly and himself roll his eyes.

Age.

It was inevitable. He had ruled Camelot through almost 50 years, a Golden Age for Albion. But there were too many battles, too much grief and too many losses weighing down his heart; he had pushed his body too far, demanded too much…

And life was catching up with him.

Merlin had accepted grimly that he couldn't save Arthur from getting old but that didn't mean it kept him from trying. The warlock had forced feed him some disgusting things that only ended making him worse and more irritated.

"I feel like I did thirty years ago." He answered Amhar jokingly but his son only raised an eyebrow on a Gaius-like manner.

Oh, how he missed the physician.

"You know you can't lie to me father" the Prince said, sighing. And Arthur cursed in his head because of course his son had gotten Gwen's acuteness "So tell me, how are you?"

"Merlin talked to you, didn't he?"

Amhar pursed his lips "He talked to Galahad."

"Same." said the King. His eyes softened a bit before he said quietly "Look Amhar, I think this is it…"

He studied his son's face but despite his jaw clenching the prince didn't took his eyes away.

"I'm certain it is my time" Arthur continued "and I want you to know that no father has ever been prouder of his son. You will be a great King Amhar…greater than I ever was"

"Father don't say that" Amhar whispered, tears building behind his dark eyes "You are the one and only High King of Albion…no one can ever replace you."

Arthur was aware of Merlin's eyes on him but he smiled softly as he wiped away the tears running through Amhar's cheeks with his hands "You can, and you will. Sooner than later I hope."

Amhar shook his head "Father…"

It looked like Galahad was about to say something but the door opened, letting in a beautiful, gray haired lady in a blood red dress. Guinevere smiled at her son and then proceeded to take her place besides Arthur's bed.

"How are you Arthur?"

The King rolled his eyes "I feel like I won that tournament in disguise." he smiled at his wife. "Do you remember Guinevere?"

Guinevere blushed at a faraway memory but she refused to let Arthur's charm get to her. "You know you can't lie to me Arthur." she scolded gently, earning a smug smile from Amhar behind her "Now tell me how you are."

"He feels like if he's going to throw up and the fever is still high" Merlin piped in absentmindedly as he continued taking with Galahad. Arthur glared at the back of Merlin's head and he just knew that his friend was smirking.

"Thank you Merlin."

Merlin turned around and winked at Gwen with those bright blue eyes that hadn't lost any of their radiance "You're very welcome my Queen."

Arthur rolled his eyes at both his wife and best friend, glancing at Amhar, who was biting his lip as he looked at the floor. Arthur sighed because he understood…he had been barely 25 years old when his own father had passed away…

"Hey Arthur, does this mean Amhar gets Excalibur?" Galahad asked suddenly, earning glares from the Prince and his mother. But as Arthur snickered quietly it was Merlin's reaction which surprised him the most.

"No!" the warlock snapped, crossing his lanky arms across his chest and throwing the knight a deadly glare, which had Galahad and the Prince backing away "No one gets Excalibur, Galahad! Gods, I can't even believe you asked something like that…"

"I wouldn't be able to wield it!" Amhar said softly, opening his eyes wide. "Excalibur is made for the Once and Future King only."

"You talk as if Arthur is leaving us Galahad!" Gwen scolded gently, frowning at the knight that was like a second son to her.

Galahad bit his lip as he ran a hand through his short mahogany hair "Sorry my Lady…I didn't mean it like that…I just thought…"

"I am not getting out of this bed anytime soon, Guinevere." Arthur interjected softly, making all the heads in the room snap in his direction, except for Merlin's, who's gaze never left him "I don't even think I'll get out of here at all…"

Gwen reached for her husband's cold hand, gripping it tightly on her own and smoothing the wrinkles with her lean fingers. Her lips quivered as if she was about to cry "Arthur don't say that…You are stronger than this, you are a warrior..."

"And he is also human, mother" Amhar said softly, enveloping his mother in an embrace "Maybe…maybe it is time for father"

Guinevere let tears fall, but she didn't deny it any longer. She had seen the signs too, the deterioration in Arthur's face, the silver sprouting in that golden beard, the small wrinkles around his eyes…Even yet, it all made him look even more handsome, more like the Once and Future King if it was possible. There was an aura of wisdom around his deep sky-blue eyes that told the story of a million trials and a million triumphs, as well as a million heartbreaks and treasons.

But there was still hope lingering inside her heart that maybe Arthur was not to leave her yet…not yet…

And so her gaze searched Merlin's but the only thing there was in those eyes was resolution and…happiness?

"Merlin?"

"Gwen." he answered softly.

And she knew there was no more to be done.

The people knew. That much was certain.

They knew their Golden King was dying. Arthur Pendragon, the heart of Camelot was dying.

It was as if the city was taking gasping, agonizing breaths as the weeks passed. Children lay awake at night, whispering softly the adventures of their glorious King to each other, as if to remember him once he was gone. A few bards began composing soft elegies with their lutes, making mention of their King and his lionhearted nature, his golden locks, his easy smile, his brilliant, gentle and compassionate blue eyes…

Arthur's entire body ached, as if his muscles had finally given up on the strain the King had placed on them. All those years of rigorous training, all those times he had neglected his wounds, all that brute force he'd used to survive…

His arms were tired; they could only take so much. Catching his father as he fell into his arms…blood already staining his fingers…

Carrying Morgana, his heart on his throat, after she had fallen down those stairs, muttering reassuringly "Is going to be alright, Morgana…"

Taking Gaius's pulse even when he knew there was none, even when he knew he was giving Merlin's tearful eyes a false hope…

Supporting Guinevere as she screamed in agony, an arrow on her shoulder…barking out orders to all of his knights and then Merlin approaching, arms raised to heal…

Reaching for Amhar, watching in horror as his son took his place on a bloody battlefield…his boy's first battle…

Helping Gwaine reach safety after one of his drunken escapades…

Spinning Amhar around, laughing….

Gripping the hilt of his sword and dipping it into Morgana's chest without a shade of remorse…

Clutching Merlin, his idiot's body against his chest, screaming despairingly on that bloody battlefield…

God, he was tired.

His vision was blurred on his sides, rimmed with black fog. Each one of his breaths became more labored…

He glanced longingly at his window, wishing he could stand and utter a final goodbye to his people. Those people he'd loved so very much, the people he'd given everything. The people of Camelot. The people of Albion.

A slow tear descended down his cheek. He had reached his end and he knew it…but it was hard to say what all humanity has to learn, a word that transcribed long years of laughter and confined them to memory…

goodbye…

Feeling feather like hands, tanned as the brown earth, brush against his mushy hair. King Arthur of Camelot fell into a restless sleep.

He didn't see Gwen cry herself to oblivion besides the fire, sobbing against Amhar's chest.

Merlin visited Gaius's grave that night. Glancing down at the pearly white stone below the oak tree, he smiled softly, tracing the soft line of his gray beard.

His voice was carried by the wind.

"Now, Gaius…I'll be able to finally stay."

The people of Camelot held candles out in the soft winds of the night, and from a window Amhar, Galahad, Guinevere and the Knights of the Round Table watched.

In his royal chambers, a weak Arthur searched for the familiar figure of his best friend, and all he could make out was a dark shadow by the side of his bed. When had everything become so cold?

"Merlin?"

The soft hum and the slight pressure on his hand were reassuring, as if the warmth of the sun had reached him through the chill of the night. "Yes Arthur?"

"Have you learned how to walk…on your knees…yet?"

He could feel Merlin smiling from ear to ear "Not yet."

Closing his eyes, the High King let out a dry laugh, returning the gentle squeeze in his hand. "Shame…I would've…liked to teach you…"

He could feel Merlin smile brightly, like a sun illuminating the night.

"Sure you would."

.

Merlin never slept. He stayed awake and alert, watching his King's face and the way Arthur's breath flattered every few hours. The King's face looked ashen through that night, and sometimes Merlin feared that his friend wouldn't wake up again.

"Merlin?"

" Hm?" softer this time…almost as if Merlin was barely there.

His clouded sky blue eyes searched for Merlin in the darkness, finally contenting with the way a soft reassuring pressure continued to press against his palm

"I can't sleep" the King of Albion said, closing his eyes and resigning himself to the foggy darkness.

There was silence between them but Arthur could feel Merlin's lean hand reach for his forehead, resting there in a soft sign of empathy. He felt a smile crawl upon his chapped lips as he reflected on the way Merlin had always remained by his side, never once swaying, never once failing. His warlock, his rock, his fortress…

"I can tell you a story" Merlin said softly, leaning closer so Arthur's tired brain could process the words. Arthur smiled dimly and squeezed Merlin's hand with as much strength as he could muster.

Merlin's soft voice filled the silence with colors that night. He filled darkness with magic born light.

"There was once a warlock and a King…."

"An idiot warlock?" Arthur whispered, opening his eyes to glance at Merlin's face.

Merlin smiled and wiped away the tears running down his cheeks "Yes, an idiot warlock" he conceded. "and a Prat King who annoyed the warlock to no end…The Prat King was arrogant and spoiled but yet the idiot warlock was brilliant. Truly, out of the two, he was the brightest side of the coin..."

Arthur would never admit that Merlin's voice lulled him to sleep. But it did, and as dancing candles floated around the room the only warmth his dying body could feel was that coming from Merlin's palm…

His feet shuffled silently across a daffodil's field, marveled at the beauty of it all. He didn't even questioned how he'd end there, but just relinquished to a warm feeling already growing on his chest.

That's when he saw them.

Ygraine and Uther were standing a few feet from him, gazing at each other lovingly as they lay in each other's embrace. His mother smiled at him with the warmth of a sun kissed face and her voice echoed through the field, sending daffodils through the wind

"At last…" she said sweetly "my son…."

His father smiled at him, innocent and full of life. The words that he spoke reached deep into Arthur's heart for, without knowing, he'd been craving them all his life.

"We are so proud of you Arthur…You are more than I could ever hope to be…"

When he awoke, he was in tears. Rolling down his cheeks, dripping through the clean sheets the silent pearls poured out of him, as a dam that had broken. Light blue irises wandered around but they couldn't focus. Dulled and hazy, his eyes were dying too.

The tears did not stop, for Arthur Pendragon was scared. Scared of the new darkness that was opening before him, as a void waiting to engulf him. All of his skills as a warrior could not help him against this new foe who came so silently to take him away...

But yet...why fear it? He'd seen Merlin talk of death as his time to rest, jokingly calling it a much needed holiday...and yes, if he had learned something with time...was that Merlin was always right.

That's when he became aware that there was something heavy resting on his chest. Squinting against the blackness he reached one tentative trembling hand towards it, feeling strands of hair being combed by his fingers. He had to fight back the flood of tears when he understood his best friend had fallen asleep on his chest, listening to the reassuring beating of his tired heart.

"You are the biggest idiot Merlin" he whispered to the ceiling, placing his palm against the top of his warlock's head, letting the warmth there spread through his cold fingers. He sighed contentedly and snuggled against the fluffy pillows, his heart beat dying down and tears drying.

He couldn't help but smile because there was no fear in his heart anymore.

Merlin was there.

"Amhar are you alright?"

The prince looked around and spotted Lancelot walking towards him, relying heavily on his cane as he reached the table. He got up promptly and gently helped the aging knight sit down.

"You look troubled." Lancelot said softly when Amhar leveled his dark eyes with his. The prince bit his lip and let out a shuddering sigh, dark eyes swimming with too many emotions. He was shaken but calm, even though the thought of his father leaving sent daggers to his heart.

"I am" he answered, looking down at his hands.

Lancelot bit his lip as he watched his prince, wanting nothing more but to be of any comfort. But he knew Amhar was past that, he was a man now, young still but nevertheless a caring, wise and talented young man who would be a great King.

"I just don't want him to go" Amhar whispered, finally breaking down. He placed his head between his hands, sobbing softly. "I know I'm ready but-but he is my father!"

Lancelot felt his heart break for the boy. He himself had lost his family very young…the noblest of all knights sighed and placed his hands on the young man's shoulders.

"Listen Amhar" he said slowly, looking into his prince's brilliant brown eyes, so similar to Gwen's. "You will not be alone. The Round Table will still be here, Galahad will be here, your mother, Merlin…"

"That's not true…" Amhar whispered, tears dripping from his nose to the table with a soft sound "It is not true…Merlin will leave me too…"

Lancelot felt his old heart skip a bit as he processed Amhar's words. The prince was still looking down, shoulders hunched, sobs coming from his throat.

"Whatever makes you think that?" Lancelot asked, bewildered. "Merlin is alright, isn't he?"

He couldn't help but let his mind wander to the battle where Morgana and-and Merlin had perished. He shuddered, remembering the void his friend's passing had left on his chest, and Arthur's broken heart….

The prince of Camelot let out a dry laugh "That doesn't mean he won't follow. I've seen it in his eyes. I grew up with him for God's sake! He's willing to follow…"

"You are willing to follow, aren't you, Arthur Pendragon?"

The voice of the Lady of the Lake echoed inside Lancelot's white streaked head, sending a jolt through his body. Those softly spoken words…could they be applied to Merlin too?

"Don't you see?" Amhar said quietly, staring out to the blood red sky "Because I do, Lancelot. I've known them all my life…and Merlin is happy…he's happy because he'll be able to rest too."

The Round Table flickered with candlelight as the knights gathered around it. As always, there was Gwaine's red cape sprawled across his chair, in which the carved words 'Gwaine the Incredible' seemed to laugh from the wood.

"Are you sure about this Galahad?" Sir Leon asked, voice shaking. The oldest knight was trying not to think about his King's undeniable departure, but there was no trace of doubt in Galahad's voice.

"I'm sure. Merlin told me it won't be long now. He says he can feel it. He wants us all to be ready."

"And Amhar?"

Galahad placed a hand on his mahogany hair. "I'll talk to him" he said quietly. "I'll be with him when the moment comes."

Sir Leon nodded and sighed, trying to stop the tears prickling in his eyes. Elyan, from his right, placed a tanned hand on his friend's shoulder.

"We all knew this day would come someday, Leon." he said soothingly "At least we didn't lose him in a battle…"

"At least we can say goodbye." Percival added gently.

Sir Leon looked at the weary faces of his brotherhood and then at Gwaine's empty sit. It had been four years since Lancelot had returned after a mission with a bloodied Gwaine on toll, buying his friend just enough time to see Merlin and Arthur before he faded into the hands of an unbroken sleep.

It was hard for all of them to see the liveliest of all the knights fade away with a smile on his lips, one hand clutching Merlin's and the other one clutching Gwen's as he joked about lending down his life for a noble…

Leon sighed, walking towards Arthur's empty seat and placing a hand on the worn red velvet" There will never be no one greater than him." he said softly, looking out to the sun "No one."

Silently, all the Knights of the Round Table agreed.

After opening his eyes he couldn't see.

Oh, Gods…he couldn't see. Darkness surrounded him, as empty as a starless night, as thick as embroidered patterns that covered his sheets.

Where? What…? What to do? He began panting desperately as he struggled, blinking to clear away the dark fog on his pupils…but there was no light…no light….

His hand reached another, lean fingers resting against his rib cage. He squeezed it with all that was worth, feeling the weight on his chest lessen immediately and then a hand, with a mother's touch, place itself on his cheek.

"Merlin?" he called out, voice strained and husky. He felt tears running down his cheeks from his sightless eyes, burning the wrinkled skin.

"What's wrong Arthur?"

Merlin's voice was enough to make his heart slow down several beats. His friend's hand traveled to his forehead, resting there.

"I-I can't see Merlin."

He could sense the defeat and pain on his voice, the fear. And when Merlin's thumbs smoothed against the corners of his eyes, he could sense the sheer desperation and sadness on the way those fingers trembled while they looked at sightless, dull eyes the color of the clear sky.

"Arthur…"Merlin whispered "Arthur…oh God…"

He began muttering to himself in the words of the Old Religion, placing his smooth fingers on the trembling eyelids of the greatest King and friend there ever was. Arthur let him, even though he knew there was nothing he could do.

"Merlin, I'm blind." he said, looking for his friend's hands and eventually finding them, clutching them with his own "There's nothing you can do."

"No, Arthur…there must be…"

Arthur let his darkened eyes wonder around and closed them. Crystalline tears came forth and traveled down his hollow cheeks.

"I was blind for so long Merlin…blinded by my father's hatred and my own foolishness…blinded by my pride and selfishness I've hurt so many people so much…I've hurt you so much…"

He felt Merlin's hand smooth back the gray lock on his forehead as his voice softly tried to deny what he knew to be the truth. "Arthur you don't deserve this..."

"But I do. And it is only just that I must suffer from physical blindness too, is it not?" The High King's voice lowered to a murmur and he smiled faintly. "Besides…it will only be for a little while, right Merlin?"

Merlin's hand found his heart and he listened to its weak beats with his bright cerulean eyes also closed.

"Yes Arthur" Merlin said. "we're are almost there, my friend."

Geoffrey, now old enough to be over a hundred years, spent the following days sitting by Arthur's bedside with rolls of parchment on his arms and a ready quill on his hand.

He asked the High King about his life, his birth, and his adventures. He asked about his knights and his Queen, his son…

Merlin was there through it all, never leaving his King's side. No longer eating or sleeping in a proper bed, the warlock looked as if he was consuming himself with his best friend. But as Arthur seemed to fade away Merlin looked bright as the sun that entered the windows and that the King could not see.

He was radiant, Geoffrey noted.

Their decadence didn't stop the two friends from bickering like children. Geoffrey dreaded asking questions because the two of them always contradicted each other and before it turned into a tumultuous fight he had to change the facts and start again with another parchment…

There were times, late and night, when he entered looking for a forgotten piece of writing, only to find his heart warmed up at the sight of the two most powerful man in the world, the Once and Future King and The Emrys, sleeping soundly. Merlin sprawled on the same worn chair, head resting on his King's chest, right above his heart, and Arthur's hand placed on his warlock's back, as if in reassurance of his presence.

He didn't write those moments down. He had them in his heart, to warm those nights in which there would be no more Once and Future King…and therefore no more Emrys.

The end was peaceful.

It was beautiful.

In the end, it was a still, beautiful blue sky which received King Arthur's last breath.

In the end, like a shivering autumn leave, he floated away in the middle of a pleasant memory.

The morning was precious and delicate, like if the earth itself wanted to honor its greatest King. Arthur had finally reached the end of his long journey, after uniting Albion and ruling it wisely and justly for many years.

Merlin had known it from the moment he woke up and sought Arthur's hand with his, placed a cold rag on the feverish forehead of his brother in everything but blood and asked the young manservant to please call for the Queen, Prince and knights.

But as Arthur mumbled deliriously he felt tears prickle his eyes, tears of impotence and sadness for he could do nothing for his King and nothing for his own breaking heart. Even if he was going to follow Arthur, whatever the cost, it still hurt to know his prat would be gone from his side for the littlest of times.

Amhar came barreling in, obviously alerted by Galahad, who was pale and silent, ever present at his prince's side. Then entered Gwen, Lancelot, Leon, Elyan, Percival, Geoffrey…

The Queen threw herself over Merlin with a sob, wanting desperately another answer than the truth, a white lie to help ease her pain. But Merlin's own tearful eyes told her that there was nothing to be done and the hour of goodbye was nigh.

Amhar, ever the calm prince, sat at the edge of King Arthur's bed, took his father's hand in his and directed his warm gaze to those extinct irises of the man he had always sought to impress and make proud.

"Father…." His voice carried the sheer desperation of a child being abandoned and Arthur took his son's hand in his, placing another one in the golden curls he could not see.

"Amhar…" he answered weakly, fruitlessly trying to blink away the darkness. No luck. He could not see his son's handsome, pure face one last time but he smiled as he felt the prince squeeze, ever so gently, his trembling hand "I'm so proud of you, my son…everyday, from the day you were born, I've been thankful and humbled because I did not deserve something like you…"

He could feel Amhar's grip tightening and then a soft sob left his lips "I'll miss you father…"

Arthur smiled and let his weary hand travel down to his son's strong chin "It won't be long Amhar. We'll see each other again in no time, I promise you that"

He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. He felt Amhar's hand leave his and then his son's lips pressed against his warm forehead, as a final goodbye and the seal of an unspoken promise.

It won't be long.

.

Guinevere did not stop crying, not even when Arthur assured her that there was nothing to worry about, that she had to be strong for Amhar and that Merlin would be there to take care of her.

She just threw herself into his arms and sobbed continuously; numbering all the things she loved about him, from his compassion and loyalty to his courage and strength, his steadfastness, his clear eyes, the way he pronounced her name….

She demanded him to live for her, to try and rise up for her but Arthur just shook his head with a tired, knowing smile on his pale lips.

He tried to do it too, for Guinevere, he tried to blink the darkness away…but he couldn't see the face of the woman she loved for one last time, not the way her lovely brown eyes were rimmed in red and her dress was soaked from all the tears she had shed.

"I love you Guinevere." Arthur said.

And they held each other for what felt like ages.

.

His knights did not cry, at least not out loud.

Although Arthur could not see it, they were all shedding silent, clear tears that got lost in their wrinkling faces. Galahad was the only one who broke the rule (again, when wasn't Galahad breaking the rules?) and placed a quivering hand on Arthur's shoulder, saying softly:

"You were like a father to me."

And Arthur placed a hand on the young man's cheek and said simply "And you were like a son to me."

Leon, the most loyal of all knights, was the second one to break formation and sit by Arthur's bed. His lips quivered, although Arthur did not see it as he spoke the truth that had kept him going all those years, trough immortal armies and bandits, through heartache and grief...

"You are and always will be the greatest King that will ever live Arthur. My loyalty and friendship are to you and you only." he took Arthur's hand and kissed it, dimly aware that now soft sobs tore his throat.

"What's that I hear?" Arthur teased weakly. "Are you crying, Sir Leon? What happened to years of training? I thought no man was worth your tears."

Leon's answered was soft but measured, filled with more tears that fell and splashed Arthur's warm skin.

"No, sire" he said "No man but you."

Lancelot also knelt by his side, taking Arthur's other hand and smoothing the wrinkles with his tired fingers. The cane lay forgotten as he said gravely his King's name.

"Arthur."

Arthur turned his head in his general direction, dull eyes fixing on his face.

"Lancelot, old friend." he breathed, smiling dimly "I suppose you are crying too?"

Lancelot smiled too, and he said strongly "Not at all, sire. But I want to wish you…the best in your journey."

Arthur closed his eyes for a moment, relinquishing into the darkness that he could not dissipate, for as much as he wanted to, nothing was taking the dark fog from his eyes.

He breathed out as he held to Lancelot's hand with his own "Thank you, Lancelot. You continue to be…the noblest of them all…I am honored to call you a knight of Camelot"

"The honor was all mine, sire." Lancelot said, emotion tingling his voice "It was all mine."

Percival and Elyan each knelt at each side of the bed, bowing respectfully.

Arthur closed his sightless eyes and sighed. He was tired…

But he placed each of his hands on Elyan's and Percival's heads, sensing them quiver with emotion beneath them "I'm honored to call you all my brothers" Arthur said weakly, feeling all strength leaving him. He felt Leon's hand guide his head gently back to the fluffy pillows and a soft smile grazed his lips when he heard all of his knights go down on their knees and chant gently "Long live the King!"

.

Geoffrey approached the Once and Future King with his arms full of parchments, fruit of the memories he had managed to collect on the last few days. He sighed heavily when he saw that Arthur's eyes were closed, mouth slightly parted as he took in rasping little breaths. He cleared his throat but his King was still oblivious.

Merlin, propped against a dark corner of the room, approached to them swiftly, nodding solemnly at Geoffrey and positioning himself by his rightful place, at Arthur's side. He carefully placed a hand on his best friend's arm as if not to startle him and said softly "Let's have you lazy daisy"

The response was immediate. Arthur's dull eyes snapped open, pained and unfocused, and his hand patted around until he found Merlin's, clutching it as a lifeline. The warlock simply regarded him with sad eyes.

"Is me you cabbage head" he said gently, pressing Arthur's hand with his own "Geoffrey is here to…"

"Merlin?" Arthur asked, eyes wondering around the room pointlessly. Geoffrey felt a pang in his heart at seeing his King so weak and vulnerable…

But Merlin was there. He placed a hand on Arthur's forehead guiding his eyes gently to his own cerulean ones.

"Yeah Arthur?"

The King took in deep, careful breaths. His chest rose and fell like a dying ember, and Geoffrey couldn't help but think he was. The dying ember of the Golden King.

"Will you stay by my side?" he asked softly, sightless sky-blue eyes inadvertently fixed in Merlin's dark blue irises.

Merlin's eyes softened and for a moment Geoffrey saw understanding pass between them like if their hearts could hear each other and understand the meaning of their beating.

Merlin smiled even though Arthur couldn't see it "Always Arthur."

Merlin glanced at him with those brilliant blue eyes of his and Geoffrey cleared his throat again, pursing his lips before going to the heart of the matter.

"My Lord…" he asked hesitantly "All this records…I have the life of the Greatest King of Albion in my hands now. What do you want me to do with it?"

Arthur's answer was not what he expected. The King titled his head and furrowed his brow as he closed his eyes. "Burn them Geoffrey"

He couldn't repress his surprise "What?"

"I said burn them" Arthur repeated, his voice getting weaker by the second "I do not want my life to be defined by some ballad or…or whatever it is. I am not a romantic hero Geoffrey I am a King…."

Geoffrey thought Arthur was being unreasonable but it could be expected, after all the man was fading. Merlin directed him a soft look that said 'we'll talk later' so he respectfully bowed and went out of the room, turning on his heels once he found his voice.

"My King…I just want to say I am honored to have served you. You are and will always be…the greatest King of all."

He heard Arthur's sigh and a weak smile crossed the King's lips. Amhar moved his eyes towards him and the Queen let out a sob. The knights just stood stoically against the door. Surveying the scene, Geoffrey was surprised that no one was touching Arthur except for his Court Sorcerer…

"Thank you Geoffrey" Arthur replied, voice cracking "It's been an honor too."

.

There was silence as soon as Geoffrey closed the door behind him. Amhar and Galahad looked at each other, Gwen exchanged glances with the Knights and Merlin didn't take his gaze away from Arthur, eyes fixed to his King's closed eyelids.

No one breathed.

They all could feel it, the way it quietly passed brushing strands of hair away from their faces and letting coldness sweep in, the way it whispered in their minds a barely spoken denial and then rose through their throats with salty tears.

It was death and it was seeking King Arthur.

Arthur opened his eyes and spoke, a voice full of authority yet weak and almost breathless "I need to speak with Merlin…." He said softly "I need to speak with Merlin alone…"

Everyone exchanged worried glances, but a look from Merlin quieted them. Silently, the knights, the Queen and the prince went out of the royal chambers, closing the door softly behind them.

Merlin turned to his King and the tender glow of those eyes reflected on Arthur's ashen face, going through the worn features slowly. He placed a hand on the base of Arthur's throat, feeling the weak pulse, the bare sound of life beating beneath his fingers.

"Merlin…"Arthur said softly, blinking in his direction "Merlin…"

Dull blue eyes looked at him and Merlin forced himself to smile. Even if Arthur couldn't see it, still he knew Arthur could feel his distress and barely concealed sadness. Even if Arthur couldn't see the tears rolling down his cheeks he knew Arthur could feel the sobs his heart was emitting.

Arthur needlessly searched his face with his sightless eyes, placing a hand upon Merlin's and grinning that amused, brilliant smile of his that hadn't lost any of his charm.

"You're not crying over me are you Merlin?"

Merlin huffed and sniffed, shaking his head "No…I'm just…"

But Arthur saw right through him, a rare occurrence, even more now than his sight had left him. Lifting his hand he placed it on his Court Sorcerer's shoulder, pushing gently in what he attempted as a playful gesture.

"Look at this. The Emrys crying for a simple King. Who would've thought that?"

It worked. He sensed Merlin's uneasiness vanished somewhat and the lighthearted response was what he was hoping for "You are right. And even more so because the King is a prat"

Arthur smiled, wishing more than ever that he could see Merlin. See him and only him, his purity and devotion, his loyalty and love and everything that made him Merlin… and also the other side of his heart which was tender since the moment Merlin had been so cruelly ripped away from him…

Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the beating heart in Merlin's palm, drawing strength from the other side of the coin, his best friend… for he needed all the strength he could get to tell Merlin the only thing he dreaded more than anything.

Goodbye.

"Merlin?"

"Yes, old friend?"

The black fog on his eyes dissipated and focused on the pure, luminous blue of Merlin's eyes, those eyes that always pulled him through, always brought happiness when they were wide open. That blue that was his sanctuary and his peace, his calmness in the storms, light in times of darkness.

The blue eyes of his best friend, the most incredible, loyal and idiotic man there ever was. Those blue eyes of his guardian angel, his savior.

They were the last thing King Arthur ever saw.

Arthur Pendragon cracked a weak grin, reaching with his trembling fingers the luminous blue light that shone down on him. One solitary tear traveled down Merlin's aging face, lost in the softness of his pepper salt beard.

He stifled a laugh as his last breath left him, his heartbeat as weak as the fluttering of a dying bird, sighing out with the last of his strength…

"I see you."

.

.

.

By the time Amhar and Guinevere finally pushed the doors of Arthur's chambers open, the sun was filtering through the transparent red curtains, barely drawn.

"Oh God…"

Amhar's murmur was answered with a cry from his mother, and he extended his arms to restrain her from the heartbreaking scene that was presenting itself before their eyes. Merlin, crying silently over his King's chest while the ghost of a last smile left Arthur's noble blue eyes.

The waiting was the worst.

One by one, the Knights of the Round Table entered the room, taking in with wide eyes the truth all of them sought to forget. That it was over and their Golden King was dead.

Lancelot was the first one to break formality and the noble knight limped towards the bed, bending over Merlin and enveloping him with his strong arms, soothing him gently. But the warlock just shook his head and clung to Arthur's still warm hand, saying something about preparing him…

"Yes, yes, Merlin…but please come with me…we'll prepare him for the pyre later, I promise…."

Merlin's tear stricken face shot upwards, and eyed Lancelot which such horror in his eyes that the knight thought he'd somehow said a blasphemy.

"Burning Arthur?" Merlin said, sounding as outraged as ever, blinking away his tears and eyeing Lancelot between the redness of his eyes "Over my dead body."

"Not that we'll have to wait long anyway" Galahad whispered distractedly and immediately gasped as if he couldn't believe what he had just said. Amhar sent him a scandalized look while he took his knight out of the room.

"You're right Galahad" Merlin said calmly, looking over to the knight with a gentle, yet forced, smile "It won't be long…"

The Emrys looked out of the window for a few moments and the walked over to his King, kneeling as he placed a hand upon his cold, still shoulder.

"It won't be long, old friend" he said silently "you had my promise. And I intend to keep it."

.

.

.

.

Millions of citizens from Albion came from all over the kingdoms to pay respects to their Great King. Arthur, regal and majestic, was dressed out in black and red robes, Excalibur clutched between his hands. The soft scent of magnolia and pine filled the room, in which the sun shone down just above Arthur's pale face, forming a halo above his golden hair, making him seem even more unearthly.

Their Queen was standing on the side, her face buried between her hands as she cried her heart out. Their prince, pale but strong, stood regally by his father's corpse, taking the condolences from all citizens with soft words and open arms. By his side, Sir Galahad never let his gaze go astray from his prince, although his eyes were red rimmed and he sniffed once in a while, blowing his nose on a patterned handkerchief.

The rest of the knights of the Round Table were standing on a semicircle around Arthur's body and many of the people saw with increasing shock that there were tears running down those cheeks. Galahad was always an exception to the rule, of course, but to see this men who were brought up to feel no pain...shedding tears shamelessly...

One or two children stood on the tips of their toes as they looked at Arthur's still form, titling their heads.

"He will wake up, won't he mum?" one of them asked, ripping a sob from Amhar's throat.

The chagrined woman, cheeks bright from the tears, muttered a quick "I'm so sorry my liege." before leading her child out of the throne room.

But no one had seen the Court Sorcerer, Arthur's right hand. Merlin. Bare whispers that reached the people's ears said that he had dissipated, with the first morning light, into a shower of clear gold, the purpose of his life gone. Other rumors, mostly spread by teary woman, were that he had escaped Camelot and the memory of his dear King and friend.

None of them were true, of course. Amhar's collected facade was kept only because he knew that Merlin was near, if not actually there, somewhere around the castle, watching and waiting...

For what, the prince didn't exactly know. But he knew that Merlin's sudden need for them to be ready at sundown for 'his last gift to Arthur' had something to do with it. His godfather had refused to let his father out of his sight until the doors of the throne room were opened to the public, and all night he'd stayed up with Amhar, clutching Arthur's hands between his, fingers barely touching Excalibur's hilt. Amhar -and he was not ashamed to admit it- had spent half of the time mourning his father and another considerable amount watching Merlin. He'd never felt the bond between his father and Merlin as he did that night. In the way Merlin did not cry but repeated past phrases as he smiled down to Arthur, telling Amhar tales he'd heard in his childhood about his father's courage and selflessness and about his stubbornness and pride...

He found himself laughing and crying with Merlin during the course of that moonless night, and the memory would light the days in which being the new King of Albion felt like an unbearable burden.

.

Merlin appeared through the door just as the sun started hiding in the horizon. His feet were heavy as he walked through the marble floor and looked at his friends, Queen and Prince with a solemn smile on his tired face.

"It's time." he said quietly as he approached Arthur's still body and looked down as his smile widened and softened "Time to take Arthur to the place he deserves."

The knights and his sovereigns stared at him with confusion but the warlock did not averted his gaze from the corpse of his friend. Calling softly for some guards to come forward, Merlin deposited the King's body very gently on a litter, sweeping back the fringe of grayish blond hair as he took Excalibur from Arthur's hands with as much gentleness as he could muster and presented it to Sir Bedivere.

"You'll give it to Freya when we get there." The Emrys commanded softly and the knight, even if he did not know who his friend was talking about, stood tall and bowed his head in agreement.

As a few guards approached the litter though, Leon's hand stopped them short. The knight looked down at his King with a sorrowful look on his worn face. "No," he said "We'll carry him. It will be an honor to take our King to his rightful place."

Merlin nodded as Percival, Leon, Elyan and Lancelot each grabbed one of the four sides of the litter and raised King Arthur above their shoulders. Merlin's eyes flickered when the light of the newborn sun touched Arthur's features, making a shadow of life move through the still face...

If he closed his eyes and pretended to be innocent as the young prince standing by his side he could almost hear Arthur's laugh as he called him an 'idiot', almost see his sun-like smile, that genuine smile that he so many times provoked and was relieved to see in his friend's face, that look in his eyes, the barely concealed affection that Arthur had learned to hide since he was a child...

Two tears fell from his eyes as the memories washed over him, leaving that hole in his heart emptier and the part of his soul that was missing aching even more...

But it all would be over...it all would be over soon. And the thought of hearing Arthur's carefree laugh and seeing his friend's eyes light up with life and joy was what kept him going...

He, at least, had that motivation.

And as the warlock walked silently in front of the solemn cortège ,ignoring purposely Galahad's questions of the destiny of their last journey, he finally understood how much pure strength Arthur had. His body felt ready to fall in the middle of his hollowness. But Arthur had kept going, wounded and empty, but he went on, even without any reassurance...even when his warlock was gone for good.

And so Merlin would keep going for Arthur.

He tried not to think, willed himself to stop seeing those sightless eyes beneath his eyelids every time his irises closed. He could feel Gwen and Amhar crying silently behind him, the piercing and perceptive gaze of Lancelot in his back and hear Galahad's loud sniffs. But he did nothing to console them with the truth that bounced like the only hope in his heart, that Arthur was not completely gone since he still needed his other half, even in death.

Because even if Arthur was not meant to follow, Merlin was made for Arthur. Nothing could snatch him away from his King, not even the cold and unforgiving hands of death. He'd He'd come back to his King once and the result of his little deviation had cost Arthur dearly if he was to believe Lancelot's account of Arthur's tortured gaze and horror, of his gigantic sorrow...

And he'd seen it, healed it with his whispered promises of a future rid from separations, of a future where he'd follow Arthur through snow and sand, through water and thorns so his precious King would never feel abandoned, so completely alone again...

His promise still stood.

"We're here."

The words came not from his throat, still dry and only capable of murmuring his King's name with the last of his breath, but from Lancelot's. He'd recognized the lake of Avalon and immediately understood what his dear friend wanted to do.

Merlin nodded in confirmation and the knights deposited their golden King on the grass, bowing as they took a step back and Merlin, unaware of everything but Arthur, fell to his knees beside his best friend with a choked sob.

He wondered what Arthur would say if he saw him now, finally kneeling over the soft grass of Avalon as his trembling hands went over the strong face, the muscular shoulders and finally rested over the alabaster brow while he muttered words as ancient as the prophecy of their unbreakable bond.

And then... the miracle. The glorious, heart-healing moment he needed so, he breathed for and he waited for with his heart clenched on a tight fist.

Arthur's eyelids fluttered open to reveal two wide, alert blue eyes that stared into his as if he had never left. The jest and affection shone deeply from those well-known orbs and Merlin found tears sliding down his face before he could stop them as he threw himself into wide open, strong arms that were already waiting for him.

"I thought you told me you weren't crying?" came Arthur's amused whisper as Merlin pulled back and dried his tears.

"Nah," he answered softly and the relief at hearing his friend chuckle quietly made his head dizzy with happiness."I don't cry for worthless prats...but friends on the other hand..."

Arthur's gaze wondered around and fixated itself on his family, too shocked and surprised to move. Gwen was raising a hand, instinctively understanding that the King and his Court Sorcerer were now in another world, that a line drawn between them and the rest of the earth. She smiled weakly as Arthur's eyes bore into hers, saying one last ' I love you.'

Amhar saw his father's whole body glow with a light as radiant as the sun, shinning from his eyes and expanding through his clothes until he looked as if he was dressed in the purest of whites with hints of gold...

His whole face illuminated by radiance, the High King Of Albion did not take his eyes away from the shore. His irises were shimmering with the reflection of the heavenly waters when he extended a hand towards the lake, clutching Merlin's hand tightly in his, for the warlock was still kneeling besides him.

"Take me to the lake Merlin..." he murmured as yearningly as if it was his kingdom waiting for him in the crystalline depths. " for I've been here too long."

And Merlin called a rustic barge with a flash of his powerful eyes and grabbed Arthur's hands as he helped his King lie down on the wood. The Once and Future King closed his eyes as he took one last glance towards those blue eyes that belonged to his soul brother...and a soft smile spread across his lips.

"This is your fate Arthur..." Merlin said softly, leaning down towards the barge with both hands crossed on his chest. Since it was the last time before the end, he showed Arthur, for once, how much he respected him as a King and a leader, as the Golden warrior of Camelot, as the ruler of Albion. He bowed and his forehead touched the cool grass for the barest of moments before his eyes, like irrevocable magnets, were piercing those of his best friend once more. "to be the greatest King Albion has ever known...until the end of time."

Arthur smiled and a hint of sadness blemished his radiant features. He raised his glowing hand and placed it on Merlin's shoulder, pressing down lightly as the word's that were always unspoken between them flowed through his lips. Because this was the last time before the end's new beginning and Merlin, his angel and his strength, deserved them.

"I'll see you on the other side, then..." he said softly. "Goodbye, Merlin. I loved you, my friend."

Merlin smiled radiantly over the dancing water and a slow tear descended down his cheek and reached the blessed water of Avalon's lake. After all their destiny was done, the Old Religion finally satisfied and his whole purpose for being on earth finally wavered away from the earthly plain.

Arthur closed his luminous eyes and expired as Merlin leaned down to whisper a last, choked goodbye on his King's ear.

He sent the boat into the awaiting waters, then. And Arthur floated away as his knights, wife and son watched and Merlin doubled over as a dying fire, falling to his knees on the shore.

.

Merlin said there was something he had to do first.

After gazing the last remnant of Arthur go away The Emrys had turned around and looked at them with those eyes that did not hid how tired he felt. Tired of fighting, of the sacrifice and pain that his heart demanded, of everything he ever did for Arthur. For a moment, to the eyes of those who watched behind the invisible wall of solemnity, Merlin looked oddly accomplished and...old. The lively spark of life in his eyes was all but gone, and his shoulders hunched over as he walked slowly towards them with the sole intention of returning what was never his to take.

.

He'd always known.

In his heart of hearts he'd always known that his power, bestowed over him only by his character, by Arthur's fate, was not his but the world's. The Emrys, the power that resided inside of him, had to be returned.

Emrys was immortal...

...but Merlin wasn't.

And that thought was the string of light he was holding on to, because his soul, carved between the hands of destiny, could only wander away from Arthur's for so long and was already strained to the point of breaking his heart. He could feel it throbbing beneath his fingers as his hand clutched the pale flesh of his chest, trying to subside his overtired heart, to make it resist just a while longer...

And the moment came when he, Merlin of Ealdor, The Emrys, knelt on the Crystal Cave and turned his eyes towards the sky and his palms rested over the cold rocks in which he himself had originated, in which his life force had taken form and lived before residing within him. But it was his life force what he was relinquishing to the Old Religion while his soul...his soul was only Arthur's.

And to him, he would return.

"Everything's done!" he confirmed, looking as the crystals around him flashed with all the images he'd already seen, all the memories he held dear of his and Arthur's years uniting Albion. "I am done."

And the light enveloped the cave as it took The Emrys away and bestowed it upon the earth, flashing it down upon rivers and mountains for the Greatest King was gone to the land of Avalon and The Emrys was not needed anymore.

All around the cave, where a shaken prince, Queen and knights waited, flowers began to bloom.

.

Merlin emerged, worn and tired, from the cave, when sun rose again. His hands were shaking so hard that Lancelot and Percival immediately offered up to help him, grabbing both of the skinny arms and guiding each little step the warlock took. As he advanced, magic flared from inside his pores, leaving it's beloved vase, the boy from Ealdor with a heart of gold. *

Nature flared around him. Flowers, of the kind neither of the Camelotians had ever seen, bloomed with Merlin's each step and lingered behind the man's worn boots, as if saying one last goodbye to the keeper of their hope, their Emrys. And Merlin, his heart already ceasing its constant beating, searched in the eyes of his friends the confirmation of what he was seeing. His magic, his life force, was leaving him forever.

And he would be finally able to rest.

Because The Once and Future King didn't need Emrys anymore but Arthur still needed Merlin. As the prophecies foretold of his magic being only for Arthur, he knew that, with time, his life was Arthur's too. And his King was waiting for him...waiting for him so that the coin could be complete once more.

"Take me to the lake." he murmured in a breathless whisper. "He's waiting for me."

And the noble knights of Camelot, a solemn look on their tired faces, guided the fading warlock to the clear lake of Avalon once more. And Merlin knelt in the shore, his eyes fixated on something neither of his friends could see was he murmured quietly.

"Freya."

That's when they saw her. A Lady emerging from the water, as naturally as if she belonged in there, extending her hands out towards Merlin as the tired, consumed warlock smiled up at her.

"Sir Bedivere..." the warlock whispered with a barely concealed impatience in his fading voice. "The sword..."

Sir Bedivere, as stunned as the rest of the people watching the scene unfold, advanced towards Merlin and knelt in the grass by his side, looking up at the dark eyes of the Lady of The Lake, who smiled sweetly as he presented the sword to her.

"Thank you, Sir Bedivere..." she said, and her voice sounded like the ethereal calmness of the waves. She took the sword in both of her hands and then she turned her beautiful head towards Merlin, saying sweetly "My love...it's time."

She detached a hand from the glimmering hilt of the sword and extended it towards him and the trembling fingers of the warlock reached out...

"Merlin!"

He turned around to find that it was Amhar, his voice choked in tears and his eyes already spilling them over his tanned cheeks.

"Merlin!" the prince exclaimed in the middle of the otherworldly silence "Don't you leave me too!"

As the Lady of the Lake bowed and submerged in the depths of Avalon with the sword between her delicate fingers, his godfather walked towards him, silence and sorrow present on his dark blue eyes as he reached out and placed both of his wrinkled hands on Amhar's strong shoulders, something he'd done since the prince was a little boy. And as the touch lingered Amhar thought back to all those cherished memories he had of his godfather...and his father...

"You will be a great King, Amhar..." Merlin said, smiling gently "I am no seer, but I can see it in you. Your compassion...your bravery...just remember that the sword sometimes is the best way and for that you have this young man here to help you." he titled his head, ever so gently, towards a sniffing Galahad. "And your mother. And remember that your father and I are always with you, here watching over you forevermore."

"But...you don't have to go..." Amhar whispered, clutching the warlock's hand in his shoulder convulsively with his own, as if his touch could keep his godfather's spirit tied to earth a while longer "Please Merlin...don't go..."

"But I have too..." Merlin answered, smiling softly, as the light in his eyes faded gradually until it was nothing but a flicker. Truly, that light had been dissipated like dissolving smoke since King Arthur had taken his last breath. "You know I have too..."

Amhar looked down as tears fell, unbidden, from his eyes.

"I know..." he admitted.

And finally, finally, he let go.

.

He didn't have to wait long.

Just a moment or two.

.

As his breathless body sagged to the ground, Merlin let out two words that were the lock and key to a the Golden Era of Albion.

"It's done."

And the world was filled with the purest of lights.

And as the warlock closed his tired eyes King Arthur rose from the watery depths with a wide smile on his face, reaching out for his servant, his friend and his ally, his comrade, his fortress, his rock and his calmness, his light, his brother, the missing piece of his soul. But as their eyes, those of the kneeling warlock and those of the glowing King, now spirit and force, remained locked forevermore, the light that transpired from The High King reached out for his other half...

And when their hands touched and the strong grip of the Once and Future King closed around Merlin's lean fingers the warlock's dark, tired eyes hid behind his eyelids as light came forth from his pure heart, surrounding them both and hiding them from the view of the world.

And Merlin smiled as he rose to his full height, those expressive eyes no longer tired, that lean face not longer wrinkled. His hair was pure black once more and he, just as his King, was in the flower of his existence, the smile on his face free from the marks of age.

"You are late, idiot." said King Arthur between laughs full of mirth. And side by side, they crossed to the realm of Avalon, leaving behind a word that mourned the loss of the greatest friends that ever breathed the undeserving air.

For Merlin followed Arthur into the kingdom of light after he followed him through the darkness and heartache of destiny.

.

There was nothing left behind them to prove what had happened at the lake. The world continued on but nightingales sang eulogies from the highest of trees and the flowers that emerged from The Emrys continued to bloom.

No, there was nothing left behind but a few written words and the almost unearthly aura that invaded the land of Albion for hours to come. Nothing but the silent whispers of the earth, the druids and the vilia, filled with reverence and sadness. ' he's gone, he's gone, he's gone..."

Nothing but the carefree wind that blows on everyone's face with the light laughs of two young man, powerful and noble. And if ears are adequately strained the thin, amused whispers of 'prat' and 'idiot' can be heard in the salted air of Avalon.

Nothing but the knowledge that once, The Emrys and the Once and Future King walked through the earth, their noble hearts beat for one another and not even death could tear them apart. And Avalon received their two hardened warriors, battered but never broken from the blows of destiny, not as long as they had each other.

For they always were, truly, two sides of the same coin, until the end of time. The warlock born with magic, destined to bend it at his will, the prince born of magic, destined to restore it. The man taught to be gentle and fair by the soft touch of his mother and the man taught to be proud and brave by the stern rules of his father. Yet the Once and Future King and Emrys were the same. Both proved themselves to be merciful and just, caring, compassionate, powerful and noble. Loyalty underlined their characters. Sacrifice defined their lives. Loss, ugly and deceitful, mined their hearts in the best of ways.

Both needed each other. As the sun needs the moon so that he can be the day, there was no Arthur without Merlin. As the rain needs the clouds so that pouring may commence there was no Merlin without his King. And as hearts held together by tendrils of affection as great as the deepest of seas...the truth is unfold, no lies can be told, there is no deceit in the reality of their intertwined souls. As the light needs the night, as for bravery there is plight, there was guidance for a heart hardened by pride. And as the softest of spells was drown by the warrior's battle cry, both words were one for they fought side by side. No truer words have been spoken than the coin went unbroken as the voices of silence called to put an end to the fight. Destiny was won and the heartache lay forgotten in the cruel battleground with the staff and the crown.

.

~Finis~

* Reference to "Heart Of Gold" by Captain Ozone, an AMAZING fic.

Well * smiles and blushes*the reason why Gwaine is dead is quite stupid. I couldn't picture him as an old person for some reason...honest to God, Gwaine as an old man just didn't came to me. In the legends it is Lancelot who brings Gwaine back after some battle they had in which he gets injured in the head and dies. :)Besides, life is not all rainbows and flying ponies...people die everyday.

* sighs* Not eve I can convince myself. I hate a dead Gwaine too :(

PS. Now, just because I know you all need some cheering up I recommend reading the absolutely brilliant "Sorcery is Serious Business" part of "The Other Pendragon Legends: The Fake Sorcerers" by noreallyidontcare which will have you gasping on the floor, trying to breathe in while your cheeks are burning from the tears you'll shed while you laugh your head off. I snorted a few times while I read it ( and had to explain my brother why it was funny -_- apparently he's never found anything written "funny" ) and got glares from all my family members and a headache from lack of oxygen ;)

Thank you so much for reading this, all of you, it's wonderful to be part of such a lovely community.

Love,

Ocean.