He sits on the field for hours, staring at the body, hoping it will jump up and come back to life.

"We must go now Merlin…"

He is silent, his eyes of a young boy, childish and innocent. They do not reflect the man he should now be, the responsibility he must now bare.

"Merlin…"

His eyes water as if he does not understand his tears. He acts confused, as if reality is something he cannot grasp. He somehow forgets how to stand or walk, his mind not connecting with his movements. He becomes but an infant in this moment. It is then Gwaine knows…his prince (king) will need his help to walk.

His temper tantrum is over, he is ready to refocus and become the king his kingdom needs, demands. He looks to his left, his mother has finally been given her time to morn, and her cries are like nails on stone, piercing his soul. He stands erect at the window, his back to the scene. He can hear her and the sounds of bells ringing in the distance, the sign of change, of passing.

He turns to her, and suddenly wishes he kept facing out into the nights sky. His beautiful, glorious mother is draped over his father's body. The King of Old is dressed in his finest black armor, his crown securely on his head, his sword in his hand, his eyes closed. If Merlin didn't know any better he would think his father is simply asleep and awaiting the morning rays of the day.

She is stunning in this moment, his angelic mother's hair fanned out over his father, her fingers digging into his fine armor, her black dark dress fluttering against the light breeze coming in through the window. He cannot see her eyes, only the water dropping down over the once king's armor and the violent shaking of her lean figure.

"Mother…"

She wails on, her sobs increasing. He can see her knuckles turn to white as she clings to him…her husband, his father, her lover, his king. He wills himself to not cry, she had given him his day yesterday, today is hers. He walks slowly over to the scene, the dark crystals of her black crown glitter only slightly, their sinister ambience cold and startling.

He reaches out to her and picks up one of the long chestnut colored locks and twists it between his fingers reminding him that she is still real, that she will not disappear from him as well. She slowly lifts her head at the gesture, the black veil covers her face, and the outfit makes her look like a ghost.

"He is cold."

He stares at her, his face white as if fear has been instilled deep into his soul, or maybe it was his life, maybe his beautiful full life has been taken from him and all that is left is this hallow shell. Her face is a deep frown, her eyes red and puffy from her tears.

"I know."

They are quiet for a moment, as they both slowly stand. Her hands clasp together in front her, just shy of the end of the long veil. He stands proudly on the other side, his arm resting on his strong blade.

"It is time, Mother."

She nods.

"It is time, my king."

Oh ... táimid ag an solas agus an áilleacht

Oh ... táimid ag an ghrian i an dorcha oíche

Oh ... táimid ag na seirbhísigh an chuid is mó ... Dia mighty

Chanadh againn a thabhairt duit ... guí chun tú ... woship tú ...

Rí thuas ... le do thoil glacadh leis an rí na Cruinne

Oh King thuas ... le do thoil é a thabhairt chun Heaven ...

The monks always sing this sad tale, the king they pray for to go to Heaven. They march him down a long path, to bury him in the sacred tomb of The Kings of the Past. The precession is important. Their order's rituals are sacred and passed down for generations.

The monks start in the front, their foreboding song sung in a never ending loop until they reach the end of the long journey to the resting ground of their old leaders, the one in the very front holding the banner of their house, marking the reign of the House of Alwin. Merlin and his mother walk behind them, his eyes focused, her eyes covered by blackness. Behind them the servants carry the caucus of his father, the stench of his rotting body being covered up by the foreboding poppies. Behind him are his lords and their household offerings.

The peasantry and servants stand to the side, they are not high enough to be in the precession. They are merely onlookers, their eyes searching the crowd for their next leader. Merlin never even looks to them, they are inconsequential. The only emotion passing through his body is the pain of his mother's nails digging into his arm as she grips him.

Oh ... Dia mighty bless thuas an talamh seo

Oh ... Dia mighty bless seo thuas rí

Oh ... Dia mighty chosaint thuas ár ndaoine

Leag ár rí a gcuid eile ... le do thoil a leagan air a chodladh ...

The final chorus of the song vibrates as they split and Merlin and his mother walk forward. They separate as the body is brought between the two lines, and marched into the tomb.

Tugaimid dó chun tú a chodladh ...

Táimid dó a thabhairt chun tú a chosaint.

The final word vibrates as the door slides closed, encasing the great king in his tomb. His mother's grip has lessened as she walks from him. It is proper to allow the queen to say her good byes, as a display of standing and love between the monarchs.

Her hand glides over the hard stone, the small bits of sand scratching into her palms as she lays her tear stained cheek on the hard marble.

"Goodbye, my love."

The head monk stands before them as the ritual is finalized.

"Your majesty, the old king has been put to rest, it is time."

Merlin turns to his priests, and nods. The high priestesses move forward, Nimueh and Morgause taking a spot on either side of him. Gaius comes up behind the monks, their leader bowing to him.

"Head of the Council. Have you and the members come to a decision?"

"We have."

"What is the verdict of the High Council of Magi?"

Gaius' head moves to face Merlin, their eyes lock.

"By the grace of God and the laws of this land, we recognize Merlin Alwin, the first and only son of Balinor Alwin as the one and true heir to the throne of Magi!"

The monk nods towards the priestesses. They quickly move around Merlin, stripping him of his cape, armor and cloths from the waist up. The monk approaches him. It is a man's duty to crown the new king. Morgause and Nimueh stand on either side, even the most aloof women become erect and hardened by the most sacred ritual. The monk turns to the gathered crowed.

"In this bowl…" he gestures to Morgause, "the blood of the eldest dragon, ready to bow down and follow his new master, his blood a gift of healing. In this bowl," his fingers sliding in Nimueh's direction, "the nectar of the black hectate flower, the flower of chance, one touch to your skin will either relieve all your ailments…or kill you where you stand."

He turns to Merlin.

"Merlin Alwin, high prince of the Kingdom Magi and only son to the late King Balinor, do you promise to uphold the laws and creeds of this land and answer to God himself for any misdeeds?"

Silence.

"I am." His voice rings out powerfully.

The monk slips one glove on his hand before he turns to the two bowls and dips his fingers simultaneously in both. He smears the red and black over Merlin's chest, creating a beautiful red tree with a silhouette of black, just like the crest of their home. The crowd watches as his arms clench next to him, the poison seeping in his skin, the reaction powerful. His veins pulsate as he fights against the connection, the powerful blood of the dragon, the destructive madness of the flower.

His body glows, the ritual sings to Kilgharrah, the mighty dragon circling his new master. The monk turns to a young boy, his pupil, an innocent. Merlin's struggle continues as the monk lifts the crown from the satin pillow the young apprentice holds, its color gold and bright against the dark light. He stands before Merlin, the man straining against the pain…and he sings.

"Leis an choróin muid rí nua

Leis seo a thabhairt dúinn tú nua vassel oh mighty Dia!"

The crown settles on his head, Merlin's lips are tight, fighting the pain. As the monks fingers move from the decorative, destructive, ornament he steps away from the new king, his head bowed as Merlin fights for control. The power seeps down his body, pumping through his veins, it is worse for him…he is the most powerful king to ever exist, the more power one has the more painful the ritual. He closes his eyes, and prays to God, remembering the sacrifice of his Lord, that this is nothing compared to that endurance. His eyes finally open, they glow gold with power, his arm shining brightly, the ink of power etching itself into his skin.

He lets out a mighty roar, the glow bursting to life alighting the dark night. His battle cry echoes through the blackness, his arms pulsating with magic and his fists are white and strained. His mother has a single though, he is magnificent…

Kilgharrah lets out an equally powerful roar and swoops down to his king. The crowd shuffles as he floats in front of Merlin, the man powerful and righteous. Merlin walks forward to the bowed head and mounts Kilgharrah, his first flight as king. He stands before his subjects, all in awe of him. His fist pumps in the air.

"For the love of Magi, for our freedom!"

The kingdom screams in response, roaring and excited for the crowning of their new king. His flight is glorious and they soar high.

…

…

…

"This is only the beginning dragonlord."

…

…

…

"I know."

He sits by the stone now, the years weighing on his shoulders as he remembers that day. The years suddenly feeling longer and more exhausting than they did just a few minutes ago. He can still see his father being carried into that awful crypt and the monks putting him to rest forever more. He runs his fingers over the hard concrete, wondering what it would be like if his father were here…if he could talk to him one last time.

It is his birthday today, the mark of his thirty-seven years, it almost seems unreal to him. He runs his fingers over the long elegant letters of his father's name. He leans forward on his elbows, he knows he should be with Morgana and his children…but he needs this time alone right now. He needs to be close to his father.

"Oh father…I wish we could speak again…I wish I could tell you all that has happened since you passed on…"

It is but a childish dream but his dream none-the-less. He stands there for a bit longer, a final look at the gravestone and the marking of his father's passing. He moves to walk away when he feels the wind shift, and a breeze pick up around him. He feels unbalanced, his magic suddenly pulsates, something is wrong. He turns swiftly, his arm pulling his sword out if its sheath, his eyes glowing ready to strike, but it is unnecessary. There is a great burst of light and then it is gone, leaving a single man in its wake.

"Hello, my son."

Merlin cannot feel his feet, hell he can't feel anything from the waist down. He stares at a man who looks exactly like his father did those many years ago, wondering why this man is standing before him. It takes longer for his mind to catch up to the situation. He can feel the stinging at the corners of his eyes, the lump in his throat, for a moment he is thrown back to a time when he was seven, his father had gone off on a mission for over a week, when he returned Merlin sobbed for days at his father's heels, begging him to never leave again. Balinor looks at his son, his big brown eyes crinkled into a loving smile.

The king finally regains use of his body, the neurons in his brain finally connecting, and the realization that no matter how many times he blinks, his father will be standing there in front of him. He rushes towards the older man, almost expecting to go through him, and surprised when he hits the solid chest of his father.

Merlin grips Balinor's strong powerful shoulders, and he childishly snuggles his face into his father's neck, suddenly forgetting the years behind him. The elder man combs his son's hair as the boy sobs, the king of old looking to the heavens in thanks. It feels like eons pass while they continue to embrace one another. Merlin finally pulls back, looking into his father's eyes, his tears slowing but not completely gone.

"How…"

Balinor shakes his head.

"Later, we have some time. Come now, my boy, let's sit together. Much has happened and I wish you to tell me what I've missed."

Merlin takes a cautious seat next to his father, the stone of the bench feeling hard underneath his buttocks, but surprisingly soothing.

"What do you wish to know?"

The king of old smiles a cashier grin.

"Let's start with…ah! Your marriage, you must be married by now my boy!"

Merlin looks at him incredulously.

"You mean to tell me you don't know?"

Balinor lets out a roar of laughter.

"Oh my boy…no I've been sleeping."

There is silence after that, Merlin recalling a verse in the Book of Revelations about sleeping until Jesus wakes you up to bring you to Heaven. His eyes sadden, suddenly feeling guilty for awakening his father with his selfish hopes. His father waves a hand in front of his face.

"Oh now, enough about that. Tell me, my boy, what has happened in your life."

Without hesitation this time, Merlin goes into the long story of his life. He tells his father of Morgana and their marriage, the troubles they faced in their first years together, the birth of his children, Hillard's invasion over five years ago. He speaks of the problems he faced in his betrothal, in fatherhood, his father weighing in every now and then with advice Merlin so desperately wanted those many years ago.

"Oh my boy, it is all about compromise. And when I say compromise…I mean you do whatever that woman tells you to do!"

They both roar in laughter, Merlin recalling how stubborn his mother had been during his childhood.

"Yes, I know father, but do you think she will think less of me as a man? Her knowledge that she will always get her way?"

Balinor crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow in Merlin's direction.

"I have two questions for you, one: does she win every argument? Two: does she keep from you in the bedchambers?"

The poor king didn't know that he could still blush. He suddenly felt like he was seventeen, his father giving him the first talk of the woman's cave and the man's snake. Balinor smiles at his son's embarrassment, he can't help but start laughing at Merlin's expense. The poor man groans.

"Yes, if you must know, I do win some of the battles…when I do she can go days without talking to me."

"Days huh? That's less conviction than your mother, Hunith used to be able to go a week without speaking or sleeping in the same bed as me. She coined the phrase 'sleeping on the coach', always banishing me to the sitting room. The sitting room! You would think I would at least get a guest bed but noooo, I 'had to be as uncomfortable as I was unreasonable', wretched woman used to make my blood boil."

Merlin sits in silence for a moment, his father's face is flushed and his hands in are fists. Once he realizes what is going on he turns to Merlin, it takes a moment, the young man blinks twice, and they both break into laughter. The young king wipes tears from his eyes.

"Oh…HAHA…I must scold mother!"

"Why…HAHA…is that?"

"Because…AHAHA…she taught that to Morgana!"

They laughter makes the hard bench rattle and Merlin unceremoniously falls off, his father pointing and continuing his good humor. They stay that way for a long time, until both men regain their composure, and Merlin finds his way back up to the bench. Balinor slaps his son on the back.

"Oh my dear boy, you must have married quiet a lovely lady if she takes after your mother. Not that I agree with you marrying…a Pendragon but it seems they have come a long way. It is great to see Arthur has moved into his new role so eloquently, but I guess it's the Pendragon women that have all the luck. Morgana has given you a whole littler of boys while your poor friend is surrounded by girls! How unfortunate for him."

Merlin lets out a soft sigh.

"Yes, I feel for Arthur, it is hard to not bare a son after trying so many times. I feel worse for his wife, she was a maid before their marriage. There is whispers in court about the mistake he's made, how he should…divorce her and marry a proper lady to bare him sons. It is honestly so sad, she is a good woman and good friend of Morgana's. I can't imagine anyone saying such things about my wife."

"Ah, but therein lies the disconnect! You fell into a proper love, one that was basically forced on you and your bride. Your friend Arthur threw the rules out, he now has to fight against the consequences."

"Yes, but father can't people rise above their standings? Can't they become better than the world they are born into?"

Balinor scratches his beard.

"They can become merchants and tradesman, but not queens. Women are born into a world where the only way they can move up in society is by marriage, and no woman should be seen changing from a peasant to a queen. Then again…if she bore him a mess of boys they way Morgana gave you, they would have less to complain about."

Merlin drops his head down, his fingers clasped.

"It is a terrible thing…court."

His father turns his head to his son.

"Well what about your children, four rowdy boys and a sweet young girl."

The corners of his lips push up into a goofy grin.

"I will be honest. I never guessed Morgana would be so fertile. When we married I gave her a tonic to help suppress the part of a woman's body that allows her the bare children. She was very good about taking it, in fact, she is so fertile, that only two of our children were planned and the other three were accidents."

"Which two?"

"Henry and William, Goloris was a surprise and Uther wasn't even on our radar when he appeared, let's not even get into the shock when Morgana told me she was going to have Annalisa…but I wouldn't trade any of them for the world. I will say, it's getting harder, Henry has just turned 15 and Goloris is following close behind. Uther and William are practically twins and are both 12 at the moment and they get into trouble together constantly. Annalisa is still as sweet as the freshest peach, she has all the beauty of her mother, thank God, and none from me. The only thing I graced her with are my eyes, the poor child, I was hoping I could look into green emeralds that all my boys have. Luckily she doesn't have my ears…Morgana was joyous at that and thinks I've "cursed" my sons with them. Their all growing up so fast…all my boys are looking at girls skirts and my daughter is wearing pretty dresses and making boys head's turn. They are entering an age that I am scared of…they're my children, will I always see them as babes?"

"I still see you as one."

That sentence was short but pierced Merlin down to the core. Both men smile at one another, it put his fears at ease for some reason.

"You have grown into a fine man Merlin. Words cannot describe how proud of you I am."

The words seep into his skin like the most powerful spell. The only thing any child wishes is to gain is their parent's admiration. To have his father, a man he has not seen for nearly two decades, say those soft inviting words to him…he tries to compose himself.

"Thank you, father."

"You have become a great king."

He slaps Merlin on the back while Merlin takes a moment to look to the ground. Balinor looks out into the horizon while his son thanks God for giving him this moment.

"Well now, the sun is going down. It best be time for me to go."

Merlin's eyes dart up.

"Father! What do you mean?"

He chuckles.

"Oh my boy, you know this cannot be forever. This was just a gift from the mighty God with the help of Persephone. She said she owed you a favor, something about stopping her reapers from continuing to leave their posts."

"The invasion…"

"Yes, apparently Hillard had made a deal with one of Lucifer's minions, demons they are called I believe, anyway the demon was hired to convert reapers of little conviction. They stopped guarding their jurisdictions and decided to follow him instead. Only God himself knows what that the blasted creature said to Persephone's reapers but whatever it was happened to be convincing enough to get them to start the desertion. It was your power mixed with your wife's that helped stop the attack. So, she said she owed this too you…she would have delivered sooner but she had to make a petition to Matthew and Gabriel…they were being, "snooty", is the word she used, so she escalated it to the big man upstairs." He winks.

Merlin looks puzzled.

"How did she know what to give me?"

He smiles.

"She had Amphitrite look into her mirror to reflect the desires of your heart. I am flattered to know that you still wish to see me after all of these years my boy."

"Oh father…I've wished to see you every day since the day you passed."

He pats Merlin on the shoulder and brings his son into a bone crushing hug.

"I love you Merlin."

"I love you too, Father."

He clings to Balinor in a vice like grip, not wishing him to go but knowing this is just a small present, not a permanent fixture.

"Tell your mother I love her as well, will you?"

Merlin's head suddenly shoots up, their eyes lock.

"Oh father…I haven't told you what's become of mother!"

The man roars in laughter.

"Oh my dear boy, I know your mother well enough. She may be many things, but she is not one to let her life stop by the hands of any man. She was sad, of that I am sure, but she was probably very vivacious through the whole thing. I wouldn't be surprised if she had moved on and found some other chap, one that will try to keep up and never succeed."

Merlin winced slightly, he thought it best not to inform him father that his mother has become…friendly with King Uther.

Balinor steps away.

"Well now, enough of that. Remember, my son, life is not a soft moving river, it is a harsh rapid that will hit you at every turn, but will sometimes flow into a quiet stream…only to push you back out to more rapids that are harder and tougher to overcome." He laughs. "Be on your toes with your children, and please your wife in bed. I love you Merlin, we will see each other again."

Merlin watches at Balinor turns, a magnificent light coming around him, and just like that he was gone.

He slowly walks into their bed chambers. She is sitting in her arm chair reading. She has her legs thrown over one arm, the other being used as a backrest. He is surprisingly happy to see that she is adorn in her maternity night dress, the extra fabric creating a soft look around her as it touches the floor, the afternoon sun kissing her flesh in the most sensual way. She is truly magnificent.

"You can stop staring anytime," her head turns to him with a pointed look, "then again if you did I wouldn't have the pleasure of seeing that captivated look on your face. If you're not careful Merlin Alwin, I will start to think I am beautiful."

He scoffs at her.

"Beautiful…you? My dear do not kid yourself."

She gives him an amused look as he walks over to her. She gazes up at him with a small smirk. Her strong, powerful, handsome, husband, she waits for him…he knows what she wants. He leans over her, a playful look on his features.

"Of course you are not beautiful…God has not invented a word for a woman as breathtaking as you."

She is satisfied with the compliment and kisses his lips. He moves away to look out their window.

"Now tell me my husband, something fun happened today. You are in higher spirits than normal. Usually you are all kinds of rubbish and scowls on your birthday. You seem…dare I say chipper." She looks up from her book, "I'm curious as to why."

"No you're not."

She smiles brilliantly at him.

"No, I'm not."

Their hands touch, her power of sights has exceeded all expectation. He does not need to explain much anymore, for she normally already knows. It makes the times he surprises her that much sweeter. She goes for his hand, their fingers thread.

"Was the talk good?"

"Oh my love…I cannot explain to you how amazing it was. It was as if he never passed on…"

She stands, her arms coming around him.

"Are you alright?"

She kisses him behind his ear, he smiles.

"I think so my darling, I think so."

The feast is as exquisite as always, the lavish dancers and fools are exciting. His children run about their eyes mystified and enamored by the tricks of hand. It feels long to him, but he maintains his composure, his mind is not really there that night. He keeps thinking back to that afternoon, the hours he spent speaking to his father.

It wasn't until hours later, his body spent from taking Morgana in every way he could imagine that night, her flesh littered by the signature of his lips, it was then that he realized the power his conversation with his father had on him.

He can hear soft sounds coming from his wife as she lay on his shoulder, sound asleep, his mind not allowing him the same curtsy. He stared up at the ceiling, realizing that it had happened. He had become the man he always hoped his father would be proud to call his heir. He has finally reached his ultimate goal. He smiles up at the canopy, tears stinging, and his smile wide.

"Thank you."

And then he promptly falls asleep.

Fin.

So there it is guys. This is my last fic, I might update or post something new later but as of right now this is my last piece. I know a bunch of you were probably looking for an 'M' rated story...but I'm really happy with this piece. It was my final hurrah as a writer and I really loved everything I got to put into this. To all of those who follow me, I am deeply humbled by your words and happy that my work has made you happy. Thank you again for reading my fics, and you might see me in the future:-)

Thanks again for reading.