Hello! I'm sorry for the slight delay, but I had some difficulty working out how I would approach the final chapter of this story. I'm quite pleased with the way it's turned out, and hope that you feel the same way! Again, I'll warn you that the tone is somewhat dark, but I firmly believe that Merlin would have struggled with his destiny, and the chapter needed to reflect this. I also firmly believe that while its dark, it is not nearly as heartbreaking as the previous two chapters, so perhaps you won't need any tissues. Well, maybe one. *winks*

I'd like to take the time to once again thank each and every one of you who has followed this story, and for the incredible reviews and support you have all given me in the last six weeks. I don't think any of you really appreciate just how much this has meant to me, and without all your wonderful words of encouragement, I'm not sure I could have finished this story. So THANK YOU. From the bottom of my heart. *hugs*

I'm going to concentrate on finishing my series of Merlin drabbles in the next week or two, but I still have plenty of plot bunnies running through my head, and have several ideas for stories poking at me, so I'm sure you'll see something new from me soon!

Once again I thank you - you are all wonderful! - and now I'll leave you with the slightly longer epilogue (over 8k words - eek!) than the one that I had originally intended...

I don't own Merlin. Or so I keep telling myself...

"It's been a five days, Gaius. They should be back."

"We must have patience, my lady. Avalon is more than a mere stone's throw away, and the area still has Saxons scattered throughout."

"You don't think that...?"

"No, my lady, you must not trouble yourself with these thoughts. I told you; Merlin can cope. He will, however, wish to avoid any confrontation with the enemy. Avoiding trouble takes time, and I have no doubt that Arthur and Merlin are merely being cautious, and that this is the reason for their delay."

The old physician's words did little to settle Guinevere's mind. They'd had the same conversation several times in the days since Gaius had first informed the Queen of her husband's grave situation, and the more hours that had passed, the bigger the knot of anxiety had grown in the pit of her stomach.

And Gaius was worried, too. Oh, he was keeping a stoic face on things, and doing his utmost to keep the Queen's spirits up, but Guinevere was not fooled. Several new lines had become deeply etched on the old man's already wrinkled face, and his legendary disapproving eyebrows were permanently furrowed over his increasingly troubled eyes.

And the more the older man's eyes had clouded with worry, the more the Queen had fretted.

Guinevere twisted her fingers and resumed her pacing on the floor of the chambers that she'd shared with her husband for the last few years. The entire Kingdom was under a cloud of concern for their King, and though she knew she needed to be strong for her people, she'd removed herself to her rooms and had spent the past few days cloistered within their comforting cocoon, unable to face the concern and the questions from all who crossed her path. Sir Leon – Camelot's longest-serving, and most faithful knight – and Gaius were the only people permitted access to the Queen, the latter her almost constant companion in the last few days.

The Court Physician had talked at length during this time, initially, Guinevere was sure, to distract her from her anxiety, but soon she'd inevitably asked questions, and the older man had opened up further, explaining in great detail some of the deeds that Merlin had so successfully managed to hide from them all in the last ten years.

The Queen had been stunned, but at the same time, not altogether surprised. Merlin had astonished her many times over the years with his various brave actions, that the magic behind these deeds was not as much of a shock as it should have been. The only real surprise was the sheer amount of times that her friend had risked himself for the sake of his King, and for Camelot.

In truth, the Queen was not worried about Merlin's capability to cope with any of the stray Saxons still roaming the area; she'd seen for herself – at Camlann – the incredible amount of power that her friend had somehow managed to conceal ever since he'd set foot in Camelot all those years ago, and had stepped straight into trouble.

After all, Merlin had always managed to find a way out of any sticky situation that he found himself in, magical or otherwise.

No, Guinevere's fears had nothing to do with Merlin's ability to cope. They stemmed from the words that she was positive Gaius hadn't meant to say when she had first stepped back from the public's overwhelming curiosity and concern for their King.

For Gaius had admitted that Arthur had no more than a day or two before he succumbed to his injury, and even if she allowed for the maximum amount of time to pass from that grim prognosis, it still meant that three days were unaccounted for. Three days in which the Queen had twisted her fingers so much that the skin was rubbed raw, and three days in which she had wondered endlessly if Arthur was still breathing.

She had a terrible feeling that he wasn't. And a desperate hope that he was.

"They should be back by now," she said again, shooting the physician a quick look before tearing her gaze away.

Gaius was twisting his own fingers beneath the billowing sleeves of his worn robes, a fact that the Queen had noted along with the newly formed wrinkles on the physician's face. The old man didn't reply this time, and simply looked to the windows, as if they would somehow give him an answer to Guinevere's unspoken question.

The tense silence was broken by a soft knock, and the Queen shared a panicked look with Gaius before hurrying to the door and wrenching it open.

Sir Leon hurriedly entered, and seeing the intense concern on the knight's features, Guinevere felt the knot in her stomach grow even more.

"What is it, Sir Leon?"

"My lady," he began, clearly unsure of how to form the words that he'd come to say.

"Is it Arthur?"

"No, my lady. But... there have been several reports from our outposts reaching us in the last few hours."

"Reports? What do you mean? What reports?"

"My lady, there have been sightings. Sightings of... of a dragon. A dragon making its way towards Camelot."

"A dragon?" repeated the Queen, suddenly transported back to the fiery scenes at Camlann, when a dragon had spread flames and destruction across the battlefield so terribly. "Morgana, do you think?"

"We're not sure, my lady. Descriptions of this dragon do not match with what we saw on the battlefield a few days ago. Reports suggest that this dragon is far larger than the beast from the battle. In fact, my lady, the descriptions seem to point to a dragon that we have long since thought to be gone."

The knight paused, allowing his words to sink in.

"It is troubling, my lady. A dragon itself is worrying enough, but we are concerned that there may be sorcery involved. The dragon heading our way matches the description of The Great Dragon that the King himself defeated years ago. We fear that Morgana may be conjuring these sightings to spread fear and panic throughout the kingdom in order to weaken us."

Guinevere looked to Gaius for help, for of course she knew that The Great Dragon had not been defeated all those years ago after all. The old man scrambled to his feet from his position at the King's desk, and hurried towards the Queen, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and extreme concern.

"Sir Leon," he said. "How far away is this dragon?"

"Perhaps an hour. Perhaps less," the knight replied, frowning.

"You must clear the courtyard immediately."

"We must... what?" the knight said, blinking stupidly at the old man, before looking to the Queen for guidance.

"Do as he says, Sir Leon," she said grimly. "And do it fast. Send word throughout the city that there is no cause for alarm."

"But, my lady... a dragon." The knight was clearly staggered.

"I am your Queen, Sir Leon, and this is a command. Do not think that I would endanger the lives of our people. This dragon is no threat to us. You have to trust me."

The knight straightened his posture and nodded, before bowing and leaving the room to carry out his Queen's orders. As soon as the door clicked softly shut, Guinevere faced the physician.

"Gaius?"

"I do not know what this means, my lady, but if Kilgharrah is coming to Camelot, then it must be important. We must continue to hope."

oo0oo

Word had spread throughout Camelot of the possible arrival of the beast that everyone had thought was dead, and though the people were more than a little afraid, curiosity got the better of a large number of them. There was quite the crowd gathered around the edge of the stone courtyard where Guinevere, Gaius, and a contingent of knights waited on the steps of the citadel.

"Did you not order them to remain in their homes, Sir Leon?" asked Gaius. "I am not sure that it is wise for there to be so many people in the area."

"I can't order them so stay in their homes," replied the knight. "Their concern for Arthur far outweighs any fear they might have for themselves. And they trust our Queen."

Guinevere pressed her hand on the knight's arm and squeezed it gratefully.

"Thank you, Sir Leon."

There was a tense silence after that, as everyone kept their gazes firmly fixed on the skies above them. Guinevere had to curb the urge to fidget, and ruthlessly linked her fingers together in order to keep them still. She had no wish to betray her anxiety to the people gathered in the courtyard, for they might interpret it as fear of the creature that she had gravely assured them was perfectly safe.

The minutes dragged by, and the skies remained empty of everything other than the ominous grey clouds that travelled over their heads as slowly as the seconds that passed them by; seconds that were almost mocking them with their refusal to move more swiftly.

Guinevere heard Gaius's sharp intake of breath the same time that she acknowledged the excited whispers that floated up from the crowds.

"What's that?"

"Look!"

"It's getting closer!"

"Is that the dragon?"

"Dragon!"

"My lady, Kilgharrah approaches."

Guinevere gripped her fingers together even more tightly, and lifted her chin. At first, she could only see a shadow on the horizon, but soon that shadow became clearer as it got closer. And closer. Astonishingly, the Queen found herself hoping that it would stay only a shadow in the distance; that it would remain no more than a faint, unknown curiosity. For the speed that the shadow approached the citadel was suddenly far too fast, and Guinevere found herself wishing for the slowness of time that she'd only minutes before had been cursing.

Because she was not ready. She was not ready to know what she somehow already knew. She was not ready to deal with the consequences of that unacknowledged truth.

But just as time had refused to speed up only moments before, it was just as reluctant to slow back down again, and the shadow was now much more than a shadow; it was the truly terrifying form of The Great Dragon, its bronzed scales clearly visible against the greyness of the sky that surrounded it.

The crowd, perhaps letting their fears come back to the front of their minds, hastily moved to the perimeters of the courtyard, and watched cautiously as the beast circled above them for a few moments, its gaze seeking out and finding that of the Queen.

"Lady Queen, I humbly ask permission to land."

Several gasps of shock echoed throughout the crowd, both at the gentle request, and at the obvious surprise of hearing the magical creature speak.

Guinevere nodded graciously, unable to find the breath with which to form a reply.

The dragon landed softly upon the cobbled stones of the courtyard, and settled its giant wings around itself before it bowing its head respectfully.

"I bring tidings that will both hearten and sadden you, Lady Queen."

A terrible hush descended over the crowd, and Guinevere felt the dread that was permeating the very air that she breathed. She straightened her posture into that of a statue, and nodded again, still unable to command her voice to work.

"The witch is dead, and no longer a threat to all that you hold dear."

The crowd found their voices and several cheers and joyous cries erupted, as the people expressed their relief at this greatest of news. It was a minute or two before they quietened again, perhaps remembering the dragon's earlier words, or perhaps struck dumb again by the sombre expression of the beast that had remained so perfectly still throughout the display of mass relief.

"This is wonderful news indeed, and we thank you for bringing it to us, Great Dragon," said Sir Leon, taking charge, as it was clear that the Queen was still unable to form any words. "But...what tidings of Arthur? Do you have news of our King?"

The crowd held their breath, along with the royal entourage gathered on the steps, as the dragon lowered its head.

"I am deeply sorry to inform you that the Once and Future King died these three days past. The Emrys did all that was in his power to save the King, but even he is not powerful enough to beat the forces of fate."

The dragon paused, and then shifted its gaze to look Guinevere directly in the eye.

"You must be strong, Lady Queen, for now the future of Albion rests in your hands. And they are more than capable of the task that awaits you. You will not be alone. There are those who you already have at your side..."

The dragon briefly rested its eyes upon the people gathered on the steps of the citadel, lingering as they passed by Sir Leon, and nodding slightly as they landed on the form of the Court Physician.

"And there is another who would help you; one who would be your strongest ally, if you are but willing to accept him. And one who needs your help right now, Lady Queen."

As the dragon finished speaking, he unfurled one of his great wings, and gently released the burden that he had hidden within one of his giant claws at the base of the citadel's steps. There were several surprised gasps from not only the crowd, but from the knights surrounding the Queen.

"Who is that?"

"Isn't that the physician's boy?"

"That's Merlin!"

"Merlin!"

"My boy," whispered Gaius, who quickly rushed to the unconscious form of his ward.

Guinevere struggled to push past the heavy blanket of grief that had surrounded her as soon as she'd heard the words confirming her husband's death, but she forced herself to move, and stumbled down the steps until she reached Gaius, before joining him on her knees.

"What is his injury?" asked the physician anxiously, who was currently feeling for a pulse with gentle fingers, while his other hand skimmed over the slight frame of the warlock, searching for the cause of Merlin's state of collapse.

"Do not fear, Gaius; you will find no wounds to bandage, nor bones to set. The Emrys is in no danger of dying... but he is broken of spirit," said the dragon, and it was clear that the beast was filled with grief at his own words.

"What happened?" whispered the Queen, absorbing the full impact of the state of her best friend. Merlin had always had an air of delicacy about him, but Guinevere had never seen the man look so fragile in all of the years they'd known each other. Quite apart from the state of his clothing – which was muddied and torn, and was damp to the touch – Merlin was greyer than the skies above, and the bruises under his eyes were akin to that of someone recovering from a tavern brawl.

"It is grief, Lady Queen; something that perhaps only you will begin to understand. There is much that you do not know, and it is the warlock who must tell you, for I do not have the right to do so. But heed my words, Lady Queen; the Emrys would not thank me for bringing him home, for he had no wish to leave his King behind. I have been watching the warlock closely, and willing him to gather his strength, but after the third dawning of a new day, I could no longer continue to watch."

"You watched him for three days?" said Gaius angrily, his voice shaking with his wrath. "You are the boy's kin, and yet you did nothing?"

If anyone was surprised at the sight of Camelot's stoically calm physician angrily scold a beast that was capable of killing every single person in the courtyard with a simple breath of fire, nobody said anything. They were engrossed far too deeply in the events unfolding before them, and were perhaps shocked at the way the beast allowed a slow river of tears to trickle from its golden eyes.

"I am weakened with age, old friend. I am not long for this world, and I did not believe I would be able to make the journey from Avalon to Camelot. I was unwilling to take the risk, for as much as the boy needed help, he was at least safe on the shores of Avalon. If I failed in the task of bringing him to Camelot, I would have left him unprotected in forests that still have the scattered remnants of the witch's army prowling throughout them."

"And yet, you brought him anyway," said Guinevere, narrowing her eyes.

"I could no longer watch, Lady Queen. The warlock is perhaps stronger than any other person that I know of, but even he has his limits. A body cannot sustain itself without nourishment, food, and rest. Nor can grief begin to heal without others to lean on. I could leave him no longer."

"My lady, we must get him inside," said Gaius anxiously, and the old man gestured to the knights to help him. "Quickly now, he needs to be warmed."

As several knights, led by Sir Leon, approached the prone form of the warlock, Guinevere rose to her feet and stepped to one side.

"I-I thank you for bringing Merlin home, Great Dragon. And for... for bringing us news of Morgana's demise."

The dragon bowed its head.

"I have but one question," she said, swallowing painfully. "Where is the King? Where does my husband lie?"

"The Once and Future King rests in the magical waters of Avalon, Lady Queen. Merlin saw to it that the King had a fitting journey from this world into the next."

Guinevere closed her eyes briefly, and nodded once more.

"There is a boon that I would ask of you, Lady Queen."

Guinevere found her gaze drawn to the retreating backs of the knights who were carrying her friend inside the citadel, and knew that while the dragon had brought her the news that would haunt her till the end of her days, he had also brought her friend home, and she owed the beast more than mere words of gratitude.

"Then you must ask me this favour," she said quietly. "And if it is within my power, I will grant it."

"I humbly ask to rest these weary bones upon the ground beneath me," said the dragon, bowing before the Queen. "And that you allow me to remain until my dragon-brother recovers. The sleep of the eternal awaits me, and I would go to my rest with my mind eased, if that is at all possible."

"Of course," she replied. "You may be assured of your welcome within the city, Great Dragon."

"Thank you, Lady Queen. You are as gracious and wise as I have always thought you."

Guinevere nodded, and summoned one of the knights that had remained in the courtyard.

"See to it that the dragon remains undisturbed, and that he is kept informed of Merlin's condition. And please, gather the knights, and inform the people that they must return to their homes. This is a time for mourning and respect, not a time to be gaping and whispering in the background."

"Yes, my lady," said the knight and, with a wary glance at the dragon, backed away, and beckoned the remaining knights together.

"I must leave you know," said Guinevere, returning her gaze to the dragon. "I would like to oversee Merlin's care, and... there is much that I have to think about."

"Of course, Lady Queen."

Guinevere nodded graciously, and gathered up her skirts so that she could climb the steps behind her. She did indeed have much to think about, and was aware that she had not fully absorbed the news of her husband's death yet. The knowledge was there, and it was prodding at her painfully, but she pushed it away, knowing that she needed to keep her wits about her in the coming days. For as much as she knew how heavy the burden of her grief would be in the days to come, the weight of responsibility that had been thrust upon her shoulders would surely be equal to it.

oo0oo

It was a full week before Merlin opened his eyes, a week in which Gaius patiently administered small amount of fluids and watered down broth into the unresisting mouth of his ward, and a further day still before Gaius could persuade him to speak, though the words that that were whispered so painfully seemed hardly worthy of the obvious struggle that they had caused the already weakened man.

"He's gone."

The day following Merlin's return to consciousness found Guinevere and Gaius seated at the bedside of the warlock, quietly conversing about the man who was continuing to concern them so deeply.

"His strength is returning slowly, my lady, but I am still extremely worried about the level of shock that is clearly hampering his recovery," said the troubled physician.

"Merlin has always been devoted to Arthur, Gaius. I was even partly jealous of it at one time, for the bond they shared was so obviously deeper than I could ever hope to understand. I don't want to think about what he's been through..."

Guinevere allowed her eyes to rest on the sleeping form of her friend; there was a little more colour to his features, the greyness that had worried them all lifted from them. But despite the more normal pink tinges to his skin, the faint blush of returning health was not strong enough to hide the undeniable paleness of Merlin's face.

The Queen was struggling with her own grief, but she nevertheless could not help but empathize with her friend's pain, and want to help him. For while she knew that her own grief was staggering, she understood that in some ways Merlin's despair went deeper.

"Has he said anything else?" she asked.

"No," the Court Physician sighed. "Just those same two words. And I'm ashamed to say, my lady, that while I know that he needs to talk about what happened, I cannot bring myself to ask him. I have never seen such empty eyes..."

Guinevere patted the old man's hand sympathetically, and returned her attention to Merlin, whose features, even as he slept, were marred by a frown.

"He needs time, Gaius. We all do."

"I am not sure that time will be enough," replied the physician. "Though time is something that Merlin sadly has plenty of. My poor boy."

"Yes," agreed the Queen. "Merlin is still so young. We're of an age, as you know, Gaius. We have long years ahead of us in which to live without Arthur. We will lean upon each other, I think, in the years to come."

The physician nodded at her words, but Guinevere could sense that she was missing something, for while the old man gave her a look of sympathy, the look he settled upon his ward was filled with a pity so deep that the Queen was faintly worried by it.

"Gaius? What is it?"

"That is something that I cannot tell you, my lady, for I do not know if my suspicions are correct. And even if they are, it is up to Merlin whether he wishes to share his secrets."

oo0oo

The second coronation of Queen Guinevere Pendragon of Camelot took place a fortnight after Merlin had been brought home so dramatically. The warlock was still cloistered within the Court Physician's rooms, slowly recovering his health under the gentle ministrations of his guardian, and so he wasn't present for the momentous occasion, much to Guinevere's sorrow. Her friend was still confined to his bed, and was either refusing, or unable to talk. But he was at least eating now, and his features were beginning to lose the unhealthy glaze of shock that had worried them all so thoroughly.

The Great Dragon had blessed the new Queen with a shower of harmless sparks, and, heartened by the news of the warlock's slow, but steady return to health, had departed the city on the evening of Guinevere's formal acceptance as Camelot's ruling sovereign. The Queen had tried to persuade the creature to stay, if only for the sake of her friend, but the dragon had gently refused, stating his wish to spare his kin from witnessing the death that he knew was only days, perhaps even hours, away.

"He watched his soul-brother die before him, Lady Queen. I cannot ask him to watch as his dragon-brother does the same."

"Do you have anything you wish me to say to him? I know he will be troubled by your leaving," said the Queen. "Gaius has explained the bond that you share with Merlin, and though I do not understand it, I can see how much you care for him. I can only assume that Merlin has the same care for you."

"The warlock knew my time was almost upon me, Lady Queen. I can sense his pain, but I know that he is strong enough to bear it. I ask only one thing."

"And that is?"

"Remind my Dragon Lord of his heritage. Have him seek out Aithusa."

"Aithusa?"

"He will know who you mean. It is Aithusa that he will need in the long years ahead."

Guinevere didn't know who Aithusa was, but it was clear that this request was important, for the dragon's eyes had looked deeply into hers as he'd spoken it.

"Aithusa," she repeated, making sure that she had the name clear in her mind. "I will inform him of your words."

"Take care of him, Guinevere. He is strong, yet vulnerable at the same time. He needs you as much as he will need Aithusa. Do not fail him."

The Queen was shocked at the dragon's use of her given name, but she immediately recognised that in doing so, the dragon was speaking to her as one friend to another. A friend who shared her concerns for the man who was still gripped within the icy fingers of grief.

"I will not fail him," she assured in a quiet voice. "I promise."

The dragon nodded, dipped his head in a final bow, and then turned swiftly away. Guinevere watched as the beast flew into the skies, feeling strangely saddened by the sight, but without knowing why.

oo0oo

The next few weeks were filled with endless council meetings for Guinevere, but she was thankful for how busy they kept her, for they allowed her to collapse into her bed at the end of each day, and be untroubled by dreams throughout the night.

The council meetings – which frequently lasted from noon until dusk – were mainly concerned with the new laws that she was introducing to the kingdom. Laws that allowed magic to be free once more; laws that would enable her friend some level of comfort in a world that he so clearly found bewildering to be a part of.

Not that Merlin had admitted to any such feelings, but while the Queen spent her afternoons locked in serious talks with her council members, she devoted each morning to her friend. Little by little, she had managed to gently coax the warlock into speaking more than those terrible two words he had initially repeated on those first few days after he had regained consciousness. It was a painfully slow process – both for Guinevere and Merlin – but a process that had been necessary.

Guinevere now knew everything there was to know about her friend, including all that had happened during her husband's last few days of life. These last details had been the hardest to discover, not least because Merlin had refused to discuss them at first. But Guinevere had persisted, both because Merlin had so obviously needed to talk about it, but also because the Queen had needed to hear it. She'd needed to know every last moment of her husband's final days, for without this knowledge she knew she would forever be tortured by images of blood and suffering.

Arthur had died peacefully in the arms of his friend, and Guinevere was comforted by this.

oo0oo

The weeks turned into months, and when the ban on magic was officially lifted, Merlin was well enough to be able to stand by his Queen, and even to smile when he was named as Camelot's first official Court Sorcerer in the new age. But the Queen was saddened to note that the smile was a lot dimmer than it used to be, and it did not reach the warlock's eyes.

She knew her friend well, and understood better than anyone what he was still suffering. And yet, she sensed that there was something else troubling the man, some last secret that danced on the edges of her awareness, but refused to be pinned down.

"Aren't you happy, Merlin?" she whispered.

"I am happy, Gwen, truly I am."

The words was earnest, and perhaps even true, but Guinevere could not help but wish that her friend's glorious blue eyes would shine a little brighter, and that his smile was not just a stretching of the lips, but an expression that lit up the whole of his face.

It troubled the Queen to see her friend struggle so deeply with his grief. Guinevere still felt the loss of Arthur keenly, but her new responsibilities gave her something to focus on, and enabled her not to dwell on her loss.

Merlin had no such distraction; there was no King to protect any longer, and while he still felt it was his duty to protect Camelot and its new Queen, there was little that he had to protect them from. There had been no attacks since the battle at Camlann, magical or otherwise. The neighbouring kingdoms had been nothing but supportive of Guinevere, sending a steady stream of messages and gifts of condolences ever since news of Arthur's death had reached them.

Even now, there were representatives from the surrounding kingdoms residing in Camelot, members of the newly formed Council of Albion. The Golden Age that had been prophesized all those centuries ago was finally upon them, and Guinevere was determined to make it all as it should be, both in memory of her husband, and in honour of the man who remained so faithfully by her side.

oo0oo

Months became years, and it was only when the old physician finally gave up his stubborn hold on life that Guinevere noticed something. It had been ten years since she had lost her beloved husband, and while time had been kind to her, there was no denying the few strands of white that sprung up almost overnight on her head, or the fine lines that were etched a little deeper around her eyes.

But as she observed her dearest friend, who was gently shrouding his guardian in a pristine white sheet, and chanting softly under his breath, she was struck by how little he had changed over the years. He still looked hardly more than a boy, though his smiles had lost a lot of their earlier impishness.

Later that evening, when the Queen and Merlin were seated in Guinevere's chambers – a daily habit that had formed soon after she'd taken over the ruling of Camelot – Guinevere had gently asked her friend something that had always hovered on the edges of her mind, but had never quite managed to bring herself to mention out loud.

Kilgharrah had hinted at it of course, and even Gaius had said something that had caused the Queen to wonder. And there was Aithusa; when Merlin had recovered enough all those years ago, the Queen had kept her promise, and had urged her friend to seek out what she now knew was a dragon. Aithusa resided in The Valley of the Kings, and Merlin visited with her frequently.

"It is Aithusa that he will need in the long years ahead."

Kilgharrah's words suddenly became clear, for dragons lived for a thousand years or more. Aithusa would be a friend to Merlin long after Guinevere was taken from him.

"Will you ever age, Merlin?" she asked gently.

Her friend searched her eyes for a moment, and his features softened.

"It doesn't seem that way, though sometimes I feel terribly old, Gwen. Far too old for this boyish body."

"Nonsense, Merlin," she chided. "You are not so very old. Why, we are the same age, are we not? If you start saying you are old, then you are saying I am old. And I'm far too young to for that."

"You are as beautiful now as the day we first met, Gwen, and you know it," he said warmly, and raised her hand to kiss it briefly.

"Such courtly charm!" she exclaimed. "Really, Merlin, when did you learn such a gesture?"

Merlin just shrugged, and smiled softly. Guinevere beamed; her friend's smiles – his true smiles – were such a rarity that she treasured each and every one of them. She frequently found herself inspecting the smiles of her friend, which had, over the years, lost much of their brittleness. He would never return to the smiling man of his youth, but time had softened his grief, and his smiles, though rare, were as genuine as they ever were.

Though they never managed to fully reach his eyes. And never would, the Queen realised, until they looked upon the face of her husband.

Guinevere was aware of Merlin's stoic belief in Arthur's return; her friend's disclosures in the aftermath of Camlann had been both lengthy and complete. She'd never fully believed in the possibility of them being true, though. But faced with the undeniable truth of Merlin's long life as she now was, she was beginning to believe it after all. She only hoped that the wait would not be too long, though she suspected that it would be.

Kilgharrah had said that Merlin would need Aithusa, and dragons lived for many years; thousands of years.

It was unthinkable.

oo0oo

Guinevere Pendragon was old, so old that she didn't recognise the face that gazed back at her from her looking glass. Her hair was still thick, and hung in long waves down her back, but it was as white as the snow that was blanketing the ground beneath her.

"Is it far now, Merlin?" she said, glancing at the man who rode bedside her.

"Not far, Gwen. Just beyond those trees."

They were heading for Avalon, for the Queen was very near the end of her long life, and Merlin had assured her that she would be allowed the privilege of seeing the magical island that guarded its secrets so closely as she passed from one world into another.

"Do you truly think I will see him again, Merlin?"

"I believe it," he confirmed gently. "He'll be waiting for you."

Guinevere smiled ruefully.

"I'm not so sure he will recognise me," she said, feeling her face self-consciously.

"He'll recognise you, Gwen. I have no doubt of that."

Her friend gently halted his horse and dismounted, before coming to her side to help her do the same. The hand that reached for her own was still soft and smooth, and her friend's hair was still rumpled and thick, the light coating of snow doing little to disguise the darkness of it.

"He'd recognise you," she said. "Even after all these years, I am still surprised when I look at you. You really do never change."

Merlin smiled impishly as he kissed the hand that he still held.

"And you never change, Gwen. Still as beautiful as ever."

They walked slowly to the lake, for the snow made it difficult for Guinevere's shaky legs, and she was not as nimble as she'd used to be. When they reached the shoreline, Merlin's eyes flashed with the beautiful gold that Guinevere had come to love over the years, and a boat began to float towards them. It was white, and layered with flowers of every colour imaginable, and Guinevere smiled at the beauty of it.

When the boat reached the edges of the water, Merlin gently helped the Queen into it, and covered her with the fur-trimmed cloak that he had brought with him.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked.

"Yes. Yes, Merlin, I am warm."

"Good."

"Merlin?"

"Yes, Gwen?"

The Queen held her arms up, and Merlin gently clasped her hands.

"Thank you for staying with me. I know it's been hard for you."

"I would never have left you, Gwen. You're my friend."

The Queen smiled, and reached up to cup her friend's face.

"How will you bear it, Merlin? I have never been able to ask, but I find I cannot die unless you answer me."

Her friend smiled, and he reached out to brush away the tears that had suddenly formed in the Queen's eyes.

"I will bear it because I have to. I will bear it because there is nothing else that I can do. Most of all, I will bear it because it is worth it. It doesn't matter how many years I have to wait, it will be worth it when Arthur rises again. You see, Gwen, I cannot possibly die when the other half of my soul is not with me. It simply cannot happen. I think maybe I am not doomed to live forever after all, just long enough to find the other half of myself. I believe that when Arthur rises again, my destiny will finally be fulfilled. Only then will my immortality leave me, and I have high hopes of silvery hair and gnarly hands in my future, no matter how distant that future might be."

"How long do you think it will be, Merlin?"

"I don't know. A decade... a century... a millennia... it makes little difference in the grand scheme of things. Just knowing that it will happen gives me strength."

Guinevere shivered at the words, and couldn't help but repeat her earlier question.

"How will you bear it?"

Merlin smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, a hint of the mischief that she'd dearly missed over the years lighting up those incredibly blue orbs.

"I'm a patient man," he said impishly. "Serving Arthur taught me well."

Guinevere could not help but smile.

"There, that's the Gwen I know," he said, tucking her hands beneath the warmth of the cloak.

The Queen closed her eyes, a smile still on her lips, and kept the image of her friend's affectionate gaze in her mind as she drifted into death as gently as the boat floated over the waters of Avalon.

oo0oo

Merlin did not return to Camelot after the death of his Queen, for Guinevere had been the only reason keeping him there. The kingdom had flourished under his friend's reign, and she had left Camelot well prepared for the future. He spent a day or two at Avalon, paying his respects to the woman who had been his faithful friend for so long, and allowing the peaceful waters of the lake to soothe him.

He'd felt Arthur's presence strongly as he'd released Guinevere into death's gentle embrace, and was comforted at the thought of his two dearest friends finding each other again.

The magic of Avalon was almost a physical thing, and was like a warm arm around the warlock's shoulders. It was tempting to never leave, to stay as close to the source of his hope until that hope had fulfilled all of its promise. But the warlock had begun to realise that lingering so close to his destiny would do little to help him in the years that stretched ahead of him. He promised himself, though, that he would return frequently, and renew the strength of his faith.

It had come as a surprise to him when he'd noted that he was almost a century old. Despite Guinevere's altered appearance at the end of her life, he'd always seen her as the young girl who had been his first friend in Camelot all those years ago. But she'd reminded him of his youthful features that were so different to her own; features that had almost made him forget how many years had already passed him by.

The warlock brooded on these thoughts for a while, even as he magically sent the horse that had brought his Queen to her final resting place back home, and summoned Aithusa to his side.

oo0oo

The warlock and his dragon travelled the world many times over during the next few centuries, keeping to the shadows, and giving aid whenever they were able to do so. Their bond was deep, and though Merlin had never been able to cure the white dragon of the ailments that had robbed her of her voice, they communicated well enough, and shared a connection that allowed them to speak through their thoughts.

They protected each other. Aithusa allowed Merlin to focus his instinctual need to protect on her, and the dragon would lift the warlock's spirits when they inevitably lowered from time to time. Merlin, in return, was always careful to keep his friend from the sight of all those that would harm her. They spent their days largely in their own company, content with each other's friendship, and feeling no need for any other companionship.

When the dawning of a new millennia arrived, they were both largely unaware of it, though Merlin noted that both he and his dragon had now passed five centuries of life together. It was then that the warlock began to take on the form of Old Emrys, for he was of the opinion that he was far too old to continue looking like a youthful boy any more.

The two companions continued their travels over the years, revisiting places many times over, and wondering anew over the many changes that the passing years had brought. Magic ceased to be the driving force behind all that existed, as the human race began to evolve, and introduced things that sometimes caused the two old friends to chuckle with amusement, or sometimes to shake their heads with sorrow.

For with every new wonder that was created to enrich the lives of the people of the world, there was something dark to counter it. With every invention that eased and enriched the quality of life for the majority of the world's population, there were also the inventions that threatened the very humanity of all.

By the time a second new millennia dawned, Aithusa was too old to travel so far any more. The white dragon had long since surpassed the thousand years or so that was the usual age of a dragon, but she had become increasingly frail over the years, and Merlin had been anxious not to tax her strength. He somehow knew that she clung to life simply because she refused to leave him alone, and the warlock was both saddened and deeply grateful for her sacrifice.

But eventually, even the determination and affections of the compassionate dragon wasn't enough to keep her heart beating, and Merlin took his friend to Avalon, and gently commanded her to release her hold on life.

The warlock chose to stay this time, as Avalon remained the only place that stirred at his magic. He made his home on the outskirts of a neighbouring village, and spent his days quietly reminiscing over his long life, and adding to the memoirs that Aithusa had encouraged him to write after she'd left him. Recalling all that had happened made him wistful, and sometimes he was tempted to stop, for there were memories that would inevitably cause him pain. But even as he considered ceasing to write down all that he had experienced, his dragon's final request would gently flow through his mind.

Remember it all, my dragon-brother, for it is your memories that make you who you are, and it is your memories that will sustain you in the times ahead. I cannot stay with you, though I dearly wish that I could. But do not think of it as dying, for if you keep me in your thoughts, I will never truly be gone. Just as those who died so long ago have never truly left you. Be strong, my brother, for you will not be alone forever.

So Merlin faithfully kept his promise, and did as his friend asked, and as the time approached that marked the first year since Aithusa had breathed her last, he felt a stirring in the air; something that teased at his magical senses, but refused to make itself known to him.

He took daily walks to the village and back, following the road that circled the still mystical visage of Avalon, and absorbing the tangible magic that continued to increase in its teasing of the warlock's powers. He did not notice the strange looks that often came his way, long since used to the reactions of people who saw an old man walk with the strength and agility of someone in their twenties. And every time he became level with the beautiful column of magic of the island of Avalon, his would pause for a moment, and savour the taste of hope that had become so much stronger since he had lost his dragon.

Then the day came, shortly after he had commemorated the passing of Aithusa, when he sensed a far deeper pull on his magic, and he chose to forgo his usual daily walk, and instead found himself heading towards Avalon itself.

With every step that brought him closer to the source of that pull, the warlock felt the magic that was surrounding him thicken and intensify, and he found himself back in the form of his long ago youth, his hands once again smooth, and his face free of the beard that he'd had for so long, he'd forgotten what is was like to feel the wind on his cheeks.

Soon he was close enough for the column of Avalon to almost fill his entire vision, though it was not the familiar stone structure that held his attention, but the figure of the person that he'd dreamed for so long of seeing in the flesh again.

Arthur Pendragon, clad in the armour that he had died in, was standing tall and strong, and turning Excalibur over in his hands thoughtfully.

And Merlin smiled. He smiled so deeply that it filled not only his eyes, but his entire face – his entire body – and he found himself thinking but one thought.

He's back.

There were many things he could have said at that point – over the years Merlin had often thought of what he would say when he was finally reunited with the other half of his soul – but he found that he didn't really need to fill the moment with a steady stream of wondrous prattle, and so he simply opened his mouth and uttered one simple word.

"Arthur."

The word was whispered, but it reached the ears of the blonde, and the Once and Future King turned to look at the man who had spoken, his answering beam filling the warlock right to the depths of his being, and rendering him powerless to move.

Arthur's smile deepened as he strode purposefully towards his friend, stopping only when he was close enough to ruffle the warlock's hair in that gesture that was both almost forgotten, yet wonderfully familiar all at once.

"Ah, Merlin, just the man," said the king, in a voice that immediately both warmed and amused the warlock. "My sword needs polishing."

And Merlin found that he still didn't feel any need for words, for what use were words when he was laughing, and was walking side by side with the other half of himself once more? They had already said everything there was to say several lifetimes ago, and no words were important enough to intrude on the magic of that moment...

That moment The Once and Future King finally returned to life, and allowed Merlin to feel whole once more.

No, there were simply no words.

Well, except maybe a few...

"Merlin! What on earth are you wearing?"

Finite