And here is the conclusion. Enjoy.

Sire-when (sorry the site keeps changing the spelling of your username): Thanks so much for your comment! Hopefully this chapter makes is slightly less sad.

Ruby 890: As always, I love hearing your thoughts. I actually came up with this idea immediately after watching the finale, because I think in many ways it's less sad...

He still half-expected his lazy, lying, loyal, magical manservant to appear around any corner, to barge into his room at some indecent hour of the morning and shout with an overly-cheerful smile, "Rise and shine sleepy-head!" At first, Arthur had even shouted for his manservant, furious that the lazy idiot had skipped out on work again. Merlin never came.

Everything since his return to Camelot was a blur, a raging torrent of disjointed, pointless memories of people and objects and places, so many things that clamored for his attention. Arthur could not understand why no one realized that none of it mattered any more.

Gwen was the only real thing in all the world, and Arthur clung to her: holding her close to him at night, always gripping her hand for dear life, and, on those few instances when they were more than a few feet apart, following her with his eyes just to make sure that she was actually there. Only two people on the entire Earth had ever truly understood him. He lost Merlin; he would never lose her.

The Queen was ruling the kingdom alone now, and while Arthur hated himself for his weakness, he could not break the debilitating cycle of guilt and pain. He would sit in the council meetings, the words of the knights and advisors washing over him like so many waves. Gwen would sit beside him, always attentive, always a step ahead: asking questions, proposing ideas, issuing commands. Then, at night when they were alone, she would hold him in bed and whisper the day's events in his ear. He would nod, and sometimes make suggestions or give orders of his own, because he was able to listen when Gwen was speaking. When the decisions were made, they would hold each other close, and Gwen would tell him how much she loved him, but that he needed to move on, that Merlin would never want to see him like this, that the only way to honor his best friend was to build the kingdom they had both dreamed of, to be the king he had been when he had strode into the council chamber just after he had returned from the lake and declared in thunderous tones that magic was no longer outlawed in Camelot, that the land was now a friend and a refuge to druids and sorcerers forever more.

"And they're coming," Gwen would say, "They're coming and Camelot is blooming like we never dreamed, but it cannot reach its full potential without its king." The words helped, but only a little, and in the morning any sense of strength, of healing, Gwen had given him the previous night would be gone again.

He had a new servant. At first he had adamantly refused hiring a new one, because that meant he was replacing him, forgetting him, and it had taken several nights for Gwen to finally convince the king that yes, it must be done.

Arthur had finally settled on George. The servant had, if possible, grown duller with age, which made him ideal. George had quickly learned that his main duty was to be invisible, to tend to the king's needs without Arthur ever realizing that he was there. He performed the task impeccably.

Four weeks. The words bounced painfully around the king's head as he slowly pulled himself out of bed…alone. Gwen was out riding; Arthur knew she was trying to force him to regain some of the independence he had lost on that horrific day. This knowledge did not help. He threw on a linen shirt and some trousers without paying much attention to if they were on properly. He frowned as his fingers fumbled over the buttons. There was something he was supposed to do today…

Training. That's right. A flicker of a smile danced over his face. He still enjoyed training. If he fought with all his might, if he exhausted himself to such a point that he could barely see, much lessmove, he might be able to forget, if only for a moment. Forget where he was and who he was and why every step seemed like a painful, pointless effort.

With this in mind, Arthur spun around, looking for his armor, and found it arranged pristinely on a chair next to the wardrobe. Frowning, he bent forward to examine the gleaming shield and sparkling chainmail more closely. It was clear everything had been polished, and polished within the past few hours.

Arthur rolled his eyes at the inhuman efficiency of his servant. They had been entertaining guests the previous night and no one had gone to bed until at least three in the morning, yet his servant had still managed to find time to polish his armor within the past eight hours. He would have thought George, too, had magic, if the king were not certain magic could never reside in someone so dull.

"GEORGE!" he roared. The servant appeared within seconds with a polite, "Yes, Sire?"

"Help me with my armor," Arthur said without looking him in the eye.

"Of course, sire," George said. He bobbed over, helping Arthur pull on his chainmail and armor. Neither spoke, as usual. While George worked, Arthur's thoughts wandered back to Gwen; she had told him last night that he needed to interact with others more. This seemed a relatively painless opportunity to do so, and he always listened to Gwen.

"There was no need for you to polish my armor last night," he said, still not looking George in the eye. There. Surely, that counted.

The servant's fingers paused over the last of the straps, "I didn't, Sire," he said blankly.

Arthur rolled his eyes: "I'm not going to punish you, but there's no need to overwork yourself."

"Sire," George said hesitantly, finishing with the last of the straps and straightening up, "I did not polish your armor last night; I have never polished your armor. I have often gone to do it, but it never needed doing. I thought Your Majesty did it as a way to unwind."

"What? Of course I didn't. Merlin always…" Arthur stopped short. Unbidden, words that had been whispered four weeks ago filled his ears, as clear as if he were hearing them for the first time.

"No way you're getting out of polishing my armor when we get home."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

"You're dismissed," Arthur said curtly, and thankfully, George did not object. Arthur was vaguely aware of the door clicking shut as he turned and examined himself in the mirror, stroking the shining armor with a trembling hand.

Tears came, his first tears since the lake, but these ones were different: hot, thick, and slow. They healed, rather than maimed. Arthur could practically see his manservant rolling his eyes in exasperation.

See, I told you I'd take care of it, you clotpole.

Arthur turned away to the mirror and looked out the window, watching as the sun rose over Camelot's already-bustling streets. For the first time in four weeks, Arthur remembered how much he loved that city, that land...how they both had dreamt and talked of the day when their beloved home would be united and glorified.

"My name," he declared to the rising sun, "Is Arthur Pendragon. I am the Once and Future King of Camelot. Guinevere is my wife, and we will unite Albion and make it a land of freedom and prosperity."

He paused as another tear slid slowly down his face.

"And Merlin is, and always will be, my best friend."

Once again, thank you so much for reading. As always, I love to hear your thoughts.