I needed to write the happy ending I and countless others were denied.

The village of Everington was small. It had one street and cobbled walkways. The shops were small and quaint and sold only the best produce around. Vegetables, lamb and beef came from local farms that lay on the outskirts of the village. Fish came from the large lake that the village had been built around. Everington had a grocer, a baker, a butcher, a pub and a post office.

The post office of the village was a curiosity for the local people. It was not the building itself that excited the children and the adults; it was the postman that elicited this response. The lone postman had been around "since forever" grandparents would tell their granddaughters and grandsons. The postman was a world weary soul with a long scraggly white beard. He wore a postman's uniform that was a size too big for him and his boots were always scuffed from his long walks delivering mail from house to house. His name was Emrys.

Although the postman was a novelty of the village his job was not envied. The postman's day was repetitive, dreary and to others it seemed very dull. However, it was during his walks that Emrys could stare for hours at the lake and the mysterious island at its heart.

The stone structure, to the postman, was more than just an ancient relic with a long forgotten history. To him it was a beacon of hope to all those who had practiced magic. Well, at least it was. A thousand years ago the tower stood tall, proud. It was a symbol of the strength of magic. Solid stone walls that gave way to unwavering belief that that magic would best time. It showed those without the power of magic that the old ways were eternal. That magic could never be truly ripped from the land despite those who would try to destroy it. However, magic had long since left this land, and with it the towers will to stand. 'The tower, once a representation of all that magic encompassed was little more than a pile of rubble', the postman pondered.

Emrys turned away from the lifeless lake, the course fabric of his postman's jacket rubbing against the back of his neck. He reached up to his messenger bag to adjust the strap so it would stop catching on the rough fabric. However a red flicker in the ageless water stopped him.

At first Emrys thought it was a trick of the light, debris or a hallucination brought on by countless nights spent at the local pub. It was none of these things Emrys soon found out as he watched the point of a shining sword pierce the surface of the dark water. The rising sword was soon followed by a blonde crown of hair that was heartbreakingly familiar to the postman. The cold and empty feeling that had possessed the postman for as long as he could remember lifted from his chest as he fell to his knees.

Despite the cold water dripping from the king his clothing remained dry. The chainmail stretched across his chest still shined with its last polish and gleamed without a hint of rust. The vibrant crimson of Arthur's cloak sent a thrill of hopefulness through the old sorcerer as though the gentle folds of the cloth still held the majesty of the lost city of Camelot.

"Merlin," Arthur spoke softly, "why do you wear that man's face?"

Rising from the ground Merlin replied, "Sire, you have been gone longer than you could ever understand. And I am afraid that I could not outrun time's consequences forever."

The two men looked at each other for a long minute. Merlin could feel his heart race in his body, could feel the blood pump through his veins and along with his blood he could feel magic. Merlin had not practiced for many years. Modern technology had taken care of his every need in recent decades but now he could feel the familiar tickle of magic in his fingertips.

Merlin closed his eyes tightly and muttered a strange language that had not been spoken for many years. He raised he hand in front of his body and clicked. The effect was instantaneous. A great burst of blue light was emitted from the sorcerers hand and his body began to transform.

Arthur watched on in uncomfortable silence as the old man in front of him turned into the young man he knew as his manservant. The long beard was gone replaced with a clean shaven face while the skin around Merlin's eyes and forehead tightened. His back straightened and his shoulders rose as a lifetime of sadness was lifted from them. His slight fragile frame filled the strange uniform that his servant wore and his hair changed from snow white to coffee brown. The final changes in Merlin's transformation were his eyes. The clouded blue that greeted Arthur was now crystal clear. The man that Merlin was had returned along with his cheeky smile.

Arthur thrust out his arm and grabbed Merlin's forearm. The tight squeeze betraying the king's aloof exterior. As he let go of Merlin's arm he was suddenly seized in a tighter embrace. He could feel Merlin against him and the shaking of the sorcerer's body as he cried.

"You have given me hope," Merlin pulled away from his king wiping his eyes, "I have wondered these shores for countless years waiting for you to return. I have lived a hundred wars and a thousand droughts. But still you did not return. I have seen a scorched earth painted red with blood. Civilisations washed away from relentless rains. But still you did not return. So why now? Why when this chaotic world has reached an unstable peace do you return, my friend?"

"What on earth are you talking about, Merlin? Have you been at the tavern?" Arthur questioned.

"Do you not remember anything that has happened, my lord? The war, your injury, me… our quest to save you which I failed?" Merlin's voice broke over the last word.

"I had thought it all a bad dream. And I think this a bad dream too. For what is that evil madness?" Arthur pointed to a white car as it slowed to enter the village. "Something of Morgana's doing?"

"No. She was slain. Don't you remember?"

Arthur quickly looked to the ground and spoke a soft 'yes'.

But just as suddenly he looked up again at Merlin. "Where is Guinevere?"

"Gone. But not forgotten. Never forgotten," Merlin told Arthur. "She will be forever immortalised in the greatest legend that has ever been told. It was all I could do. I told many of the greatest love story that I, in all my long years have seen. A ponce of a prince fell for a serving girl. But they were kept apart by circumstances beyond their control. However they finally found a way to be together only to have her king ripped away from her during their first few years in their reign. She endured on and bore her dead husbands son eight months after his death. She named him Artor."

"Was she a good monarch?"

"The greatest."

"Was he?"

"Yes. He upheld the beliefs that his mother held. That evil was in the root of the man that wielded magic. Not in magic itself. Gwen changed the attitude towards magic after the final war against Morgana. Through that decision many innocent lives had been spared."

Arthur tuned towards the lake a single tear rolled down his cheek. Grief for the wife he loved above all else and the son he never knew filled his body.

"Why am I here, Merlin," Arthurs clear voice broke the silence that had surrounded the pair.

"I do not know. You, Arthur, are the Once and Future King. It was said by a great dragon that you would rise again to protect the United Kingdom when it most needed you."

Pushing his emotions down Arthur tuned and faced Merlin, "Well I suppose we should get going. Our quest awaits us."

"Sire, people don't really go on quests anymo—"

"Nonsense. Ready the horses."

"Ahh…"

Written for me and my broken shipper heart and all the others who cried all over my dash. Tilley..

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