We always thought we'd look back on our tears and laugh, but we never thought we'd look back on our laughter and cry

-Anonymous

"And since I won't be there tomorrow to say it…Good morning, my King. Good morning… And Good day,"

Arthur Pendragon stared down at the mourners outside of his window. There were people from all across the kingdom, from every corner and pocket. The prophecy of Emrys and the once and Future King had been known much further than Arthur could ever have imagined.

It seems he was the only one who had never known that Merlin was amazing.

Even Mithian was here, royalty. He hadn't been the only royal whom Merlin had been loved by. He stared down at them holding their small torches and candles in the dark and cold with bowed heads slowly rocking back and forth as if to banish the pain from their souls.

A pain that was dull and so very small compared to Arthur's own. Merlin had always been there for him. The last time he had seen this sight-for his father that time-Merlin had been there at his elbow, a comforting presence. Always the comforter.

Never the one being comforted. That was another thing that Arthur regretted, along with just about everything about his existence. If it weren't for him, Merlin would be alive. Merlin might have had a normal life-one with a woman and children in Ealdor with his mother, happy and safe.

Arthur shook the limp body the second he had fallen to his knees beside him. The fighting continued to rage on all around them as the King tried to revive his friend in the shadow of the dead Great Dragon. Someone had knocked Kilgarrah from the sky with a fire ball, and Merlin had been atop him.

Then Morgana had come, and Mordred…Arthur gathered Merlin's crushed body into his arms. The sword wound-For the love of all that was good, he had several!- Was bleeding profusely. "Merlin! Merlin! Wake up, you momentous idiot …come on, Merlin. Hold on. You promised you'd be my servant until…It isn't time yet, you fool! I'm not ready!"

His bottom lip trembled. Wetness stung his eyes, but Arthur sucked the tears away. He wouldn't cry, he would not. He did not deserve the release. He never wanted to be eased from this pain, because then he might forget. He might forget his Merlin.

Arthur Pendragon, Sovereign of Camelot, Once and Future King, never, ever wanted to forget his Merlin.

The Knights found them, bursting from the wall of carnage gasping, swords shaky and slippery with blood in their hands. When they saw Merlin, they froze. Gwen dropped to her knees at Arthur's side with a cry. Her hand lay on Kilgarrah's unmoving flank, eyes skimming the dragon's body before returning to Merlin. Her eyes grew wide.

"Merlin!" She started to move forward, but Arthur yanked his friend away. Tears were beginning to well. This was his fault. If he had gotten there sooner none of this would have happened. "No…Get away from us!…You always said I needed to say please more, is that what you want? Well I'm saying it now, please! Please, Merlin, please!"

"Arthur?" It was Guinevere. Standing in the doorway with her gorgeous purple dress, quite like the one she had married him in, or…Had she married him in it? He could not remember suddenly, though that day had been one of the greatest of his life. He could not remember, was that because his joy had died with Merlin? He wished he knew. Merlin would know.

"Arthur…" He interrupted curtly, unwilling to hear it. "How's Gwaine?" He asked. Gwen sighed and moved into the room with soft steps, heavy steps. She was as burdened with grief as he, but her own grief was nothing in comparison to his own.

Not even Gwaine, who had grabbed a place in Merlin's heart far faster than Arthur had, could imagine the depth of agony Arthur was in…But he was being selfish again. He had promised Merlin not to be selfish. After he died, granted, but it still held.

A promise was a promise. Merlin had never broken any of his. It did not matter that he had had magic; it had never tainted his pure heart. Merlin had never let his own desires or wished get in the way of what was right for Arthur or for Camelot. The knowledge was heart breaking. If only Arthur had known before…

He felt so stupid, so small. Why couldn't he rid himself of the infernal pain? I miss you, he thought. Its only been a few days and I miss you. For the love of Camelot, Merlin, why'd you go and die? There were the tears again.

He swallowed hard. "He's still in his room. The Knights are sitting outside waiting for him to come out, but…I think you should talk to him, Arthur. The only one who's hurting almost as bad as he is is….You," Arthur's mouth pricked into a tiny smile.

"You don't miss him?" He inquired calmly, for all that his heart ached. Gwen was aghast. "Of course I miss him!" She cried, and her voice cracked. "How could you say that-?"

"You tried to kill him," his voice was rock hard. Arthur knew that Gwen had been enchanted, Merlin had sworn that she was, and Gwen had been so flabbergasted by the truth that she had burst into tears of remorse, but the fact of the matter was that Merlin had never betrayed him. Whether enchanted or not, Merlin had always been loyal. Gwen had not. And right now…It was not fair. He loved Guinevere. Arthur did not doubt that the pain would be any less for her would something happen, but…

It just wasn't fair. Merlin deserved to live.

"I beg you, please…Please…" he begged as he finally stopping shaking his friend. Guinevere leaned into Elyan as he knelt at their side, eyes glued sorrowfully on Merlin's fading form. Merlin was still alive, dying painfully, but he had managed to drag himself to consciousness for this last moment. The all-powerful warlock gave them a reassuring grin, eyes closed. Blood trickled from the side of his mouth.

Arthur couldn't shut up. "I just met you Emrys. Open your eyes. I don't care if they're red or blue or tangerine or…Gold. Tell me it is going to be alright. Merlin…I'll do anything if you just open your eyes,"

Gwen's voice was chilled with self-loathing and frustration. "I was enchanted, You weren't when you murdered the woman he loved…Or told him not to cry over his father… Do you have an excuse for what you've done, Arthur Pendragon?" She demanded.

Arthur, for some reason, could still feel things.

His fists clenched. His soul screamed in agony as those first few years of unknowing flashed before his eyes. He had never really known merlin but Merlin had always known him. Arthur swiveled around, teeth clenched.

Then, as abruptly as it had come, his anger was gone, draining away into shame. She was right. Arthur hung his head, and let out a shuddering breath as his knees grew weak beneath him.

"You are right," he ground out between clenched teeth. "I have no excuse for my cruelty," he looked back up, at the mourners, and knew that in the end, he had bene the one to bring Camelot to his knees. With his false sense of self-righteousness and his prejudice he had deprived it of its Guardian Angel.

There would be others who stepped up to help save Camelot. Already many of the druids and gentle sorcerers from all over had come from hiding, giving their allegiance in the name of Emrys, the pure One. But they would never be…Merlin. Arthur was almost tired of receiving them.

He sometimes just wanted to stand from his throne, and walk to where one of them bowed, so sincere, so serious and innocent and unknowing of just how large of shoes they had to fill…. And he wanted to demand "what are you willing to give for my kingdom, then? Will you give the woman you love, your father, your best friend? Your sanity, your village, your innocence?" By this time, he suspected he would have broken down and started sobbing with the memory of the pain he had seen in Merlin's eyes as he had recounted some of those stories.

"No, don't answer. I don't care what you say, you can't be him. You can't replace him. All you can do is get your heads into some books and start researching how to bring him to life because there is only one protector of this kingdom, and I want him back now," but Merlin would never countenance that. He would have been ashamed, Arthur was sure.

"Oh, Arthur," Gwen moved forward, and he felt a warm body settle into his arms, squeezing him tight enough to crack ribs. Arthur wrapped his arms around her and gently inhaled her scent, so familiar, so dear to him. He was a gaping hole of hollowness and depression. How could he even possess a body to hug anymore? How could either of them still be there and without Merlin? There was something so wrong with that.

Without Merlin, there would be no them. There would be an Arthur and a Guinevere, but it wouldn't be…Them. Those people would be caricatures. An arrogant, merciless Arthur quite like his father and timid, unconfident Gwen. No King and Queen, but soulless, wandering portals through which sadness looked out upon the world.

He squeezed Gwen closer, so grateful-and oh goodness, why now? When it was too late?- to be where and who he was. So very grateful and wishing that there was a soul inside of the body below so that he could say thank you and spend the rest of his life proving just how deeply he meant it.

"Merlin loved you more than anyone or anything. He loved us so much. He would hate to see all this pain, but…I just can't help but feel so lost without him," he nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

There was a knock at the door. Arthur jumped, half believing that it was Merlin about to come bustling in cheerily, his lanky build wandering in with the grace and mysteriousness that Merlin had always been known for. In the end, anyway. In the end, he had been known for what he truly was.

Sir Leon walked in. His large, blue eyes were expressive, sorrowful. He had loved Merlin, too. "Majesties," he greeted softly. "Leon, what is it?" Arthur asked softly. "It…Its Gwaine, sire. He's come out."

"Merlin…What about our destiny? Albion needs you. If you can't hold on for me, then do it for the kingdom. Do it for your dreams. Do it for destiny, Merlin, come on…" He was holding Merlin's hand so tightly in his own that he had lost all feeling in his own appendage.

He looked down at his friend anxiously. It was as if the stars were dying, not a single man who had been born like any other person. Merlin was not just any other person. He was special. He was more. He belonged to Arthur.

Merlin's thumb traced over his knuckles with infinite warmth. The love and pride far outdid the pain and sorrow in his deep blue eyes. The edges were tinted with gold. He was using magic to stay alive despite the pain Arthur knew he was in, to speak this last message.

"A-Arthur…Prat, my prat. Don't you understand? You…You are my destiny. You were my wildest dreams, Arthur Pendragon…A-and you... Argh…Have fulfilled them beyond wh-what I ever imagined. You are my…Best friend. My freedom… My Forever King."

They were nearly jogging down the halls at once. Arthur and Gwen trying to look composed and regal while Leon marched as a soldier should. They all itched to sprint, but appearances of control and composure had to be kept up, the kingdom had to be kept in order.

Merlin's dream had to be kept alive, even if he wasn't.

Arthur's mind spun. Gwaine had not liked the idea in the first place. Then again, he had trusted Merlin, explicitly. He had never been betrayed because before he came to Camelot, he had never really been attached to anything or anywhere, Gwaine had been a wanderer, going from tavern to tavern to make up for the emptiness inside. Then, like them all, he had met Merlin.

That had been the beginning of the end for the easy-go-lucky, careless drunkard, and he had become a noble, caring, almost responsible Knight soon after. Arthur hoped he would not leave. For all his jabbering, and his drunkenness and his boasting, Gwaine was a valuable Knight and dedicated friend.

Arthur had already lost one of his foundations; he could not lose another, one of the men who had embarked on a suicide quest with him twice. Once to save Camelot when Morgana and Morgause took over and again to save Guinevere from the Dark Tower.

Nonetheless, Gwaine had not liked the plan that Mordred suggested, that he spent two months wheedling Arthur into. Arthur should have known that after Cara was executed, Mordred would never be the same. He may have begged for forgiveness, he may have sworn allegiance but he had been glaring at Merlin from the corner of his eye the entire time. And Merlin had glared back. Only later would Arthur know why, and by then it was too late.

"Sire, I know that this is a sensitive topic, and normally I would not be so blunt with you, but… I have reason to believe Merlin is betraying you," oh, what a blind fool he had been! What a terrible, horrible fool he had been! Playing into Mordred's game as easily as he had fallen for Agravaines. Merlin had tried to warn him about Agravaine as well.

"Think, my lord. Where is he really? I know you gave him leave to visit his mother, but both him and Gaius gone? And why did he insist on traveling alone? There have been rumors in the skirting villages of Druid activity brewing…An insurrection…" They were almost to Gwaine's quarters by now.

Arthur did not realize that Gwen's hand was in his own until it began to go numb. He glanced down to see bloodless fingers. They stopped at the door. It was wide open. Arthur heard soft voices from inside, and in the darkness of the halls, their shadows were even longer.

Arthur peeked inside. Gwaine was sitting on his bed, with his head in his hands surrounded by his brothers. The other handpicked Knights of the Round Table sat or stood about, fiddling silently or comforting Gwaine.

Gwaine was sobbing.

Seeing his normally hardened and impassive Knight so broken made Arthur go mad. In a second he had crossed the threshold, pushed past Percival standing there with arms crossed and eyes hooded by darkness. There were tear stains on his cheeks.

He marched past Gaius and Hunith, who both stood in the light, Gaius looked as if he had aged a million years in the past two days. His once lively eyes held nothing but grief, his shoulders were slumped beneath unyielding burdens. Hunith was covering her mouth as silent drops of tears rolled down her face in a steady river. Not once since she had arrived had Arthur seen her not crying.

Arthur only stopped long enough to gently take Hunith's hand in his own, and kiss the slender fingers for a second, never meeting her eyes, before moving on. He went straight to Gwaine. Ignoring Elyan's wide, tear filled dark eyes and the hand that the other man had on Gwaine's back, Arthur knelt before his Knight, and placed a hand on his knee.

Gwaine looked up.

Agonized Azure met searing sapphire, and their pain was reflected in the other's eyes, the emptiness, the unfairness, and Arthur knew in that moment that even if he was hollow without Merlin. He was not alone in his grieving, for Gwaine's horror matched his own. I did this to him, Arthur realized. If I had gotten to Merlin sooner, if I had never listened to Mordred… I took his best friend from him.

Arthur gulped. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I am so very sorry, Gwaine," there was nothing else he could say but that. How could anyone think to say more when there were no words for this…This horror and terror and emptiness? No words. No hope. No future, no understanding, no Merlin.

Gwaine's bottom lip puckered, and Arthur was unendingly grateful to see no blame in the searing sapphire. Instead, Gwaine reached down and grabbed Arthur's hand in his own. "Me too, Arthur," it was one of the first times Gwaine had called him by his real name to his face.

"Me too," then Gwaine squeezed his eyes shut. Arthur could see the struggle inside of him. Gwaine had never liked showing this much emotion, particularly in front of Arthur, but he was broken. They all were. Arthur wasted no time in doing what he felt was right, as Merlin would expect, had expected from him.

He pulled his sword brother from the bed and smothered his old friend in his arms, gently stroking Gwaine's hair. And he felt no shame, for this was Gwaine, one of the Knights of his Round Table, a cherished friend. This was in all senses of the word, his brother.

Brother in anguish, too.

The touch sent Gwaine over the edge, and pride forgotten Gwaine began sobbing his heart out into Arthur's shoulder. "H-he's gone, Princess. Gone. Gone," Gwaine shuddered, as if the word were poison in his veins.

Arthur heard a small choking sound and looked up to see Hunith trembling. He held out an arm silently, his eyes begging her to let him heal her as well. He would never be healed himself, but it was worse than torture to see the ones he loved and respected-his family-in so much pain. It tore him apart, piece by piece, and Hunith's eyes looked so much like his Merlin's…

He begged her to come, and she did, collapsing into his embrace. Gwaine draped an arm around her shoulder, pressing her into Arthur's chest where she cried. Arthur rested his chin on Gwaine's mop of dark brown curls, and held them.

He felt hands wrap around him from the back and knew it to be Gwen. Elyan came and enfolded his arms around them from Gwen's back, both of them weeping as violently as they had when their father had died.

Slowly, more came. Gaius all but collapsed on top of him while Percival fell to his knees as if he were too large for his bones to handle. Leon was the last to come, but when he did, they all squeezed together, crying, being comforted by each others presence, comforting one another as the family they were.

That night they healed one another through tears, the pain still held, but it was more bearable now. All except for Arthur, he refused to cry. He wouldn't. He never, ever wanted to let this pain go because then he might forget just how much he had loved Merlin.

He never wanted to forget.

He slammed fists on Merlin's chest, pressed their lips together with shuddering breaths, struggling to give Merlin his air, his spirit, his breath and life so that one of them might remain, the better one. While he did, he continued speaking, growing more frantic by the seconds as Merlin stopped responding. There was no pulse. He felt hands on his arms, heard voices telling him to stop. He screamed. "Don't you give up on me! No! Breathe. You thrice cursed lying, no good sorcerer! Breathe, damn you! I won't let you go, Merlin! You still owe me a whole lifetimes worth of magic tricks!"

At first, Arthur had been loyal when Mordred had suggested that Merlin was a traitor. He had laughed at first, actually. And as Mordred had insisted, had grown angry that anyone could doubt his goofy, wise and brave friend. Merlin had never stopped believing in him, even during those times Arthur did not believe in himself.

Merlin was his closest confidant, his only true foundation…Just like Agravaine. Arthur had wanted to trust Merlin so badly, but as time wore on and Merlin had begun vanishing, neglecting his duties small as they were, being late more and more often… He had begun to grow suspicious. Mordred had given him an answer.

They just had to follow Merlin one day, not interrogate him or accuse him of anything-not until they knew. Besides, if Arthur trusted his manservant so much why should he balk at following him? It was probably nothing, but who could ever know for sure? Would Arthur risk his kingdom for the sake of one man who had proved that his love was first and foremost for that kingdom?

Finally, driven sleepless and paranoid by Mordred's needling and his own ignorance, Arthur had agreed, and dragged his wife and his Knights along with him. Gwaine had protested. Loudly. The others showed disapproval as well, but said little. They all trusted Mordred.

Somehow the young Knight found ingredients for making a disguise tonic with magic. Arthur had not asked after the details, he had just taken it with Guinevere, Leon, Elyan, Gwaine, Percival and Mordred.

So, their appearances altered completely, voices and faces so absolutely changed that it was comical, the seven of them had followed Merlin in the early dawn deep into the woods. It was Arthur's greatest accomplishment, and first mistake. It had led him to know Emrys, and lose Merlin.

During midday, after a nonstop hike though the forest that left Arthur slightly winded but Merlin looking none the worse for wear, they had come across a druid encampment. A rather large one, with hundreds of druids and sorcerers milling about. Most of them-the children, really- were sick. Some were not. Gaius was already there, tending to the ill.

Arthur had not minded that. It was perfectly within the bounds of being Merlin and Gaius for the two of them to find out about an epidemic among druids and race to help.

Arthur had not been angry, or even spiteful. He had pardoned the druids, and besides, it was not in Merlin to see innocent people suffer and do nothing. That was one thing that he and Arthur shared. In fact, Arthur was angrier that Merlin had not told him so that he might have sent some supplies and further aid than what the two physicians had.

Arthur had been in the middle of scolding Mordred for unbecoming mistrust when Merlin had burst from the forest and into the encampment clearing. Almost immediately, people began bowing. Gwen had hushed Arthur in time for him to hear one word float on the wind "Emrys," and then see the bowing individuals. Merlin had seemed quite embarrassed but not surprised.

He had merely gently told them to stand and then asked after the number of the sick. The others watched from the trees, flabbergasted as people listened to Merlin with the keen attentiveness one only gave to a king. A few people- Arthur caught names such as Gilli, Alator, Alice, Finna, Queen Mab- floated around Merlin just out of sight, but always within hearing or seeing distance. It were almost as if they were guarding him.

Those hiding in the bushes had seen a side of Merlin that he had never shown them before. A side that was fierce, grave, compelling, wise and authoritarian. Merlin was no longer the goofy, sensitive, clumsy, naïve little brother they had taken him for, but a powerful influence and guide.

The druids called him by another name "Emrys," and always gazed at him with respect. The sorcerers went in and out, almost as if they were patrolling, and delivered softly whispered news into Merlin's ear while he nodded calmly to their information. Gaius moved from person to person, tending.

"Are all units posted at the advantage points around Camelot?" Arthur had heard Merlin ask the one named Alator. He had nodded. "Our spies are in place. If anything goes wrong, they will evacuate the city," Arthur had gawked, heart breaking when he saw Merlin smile. "I placed a protection shield around Camelot. No one but us gets in…And no one gets out," His Merlin, a traitor. "And what of Arthur, Merlin?" Gaius had inquired.

Merlin had shrugged. "The prat will be asleep when all of this is happening. He won't know a thing unless he sends out a patrol, and I've already convinced him there's no need. These past few 'visits to Ealdor' have proved that there are no bandits within these woods," he grinned at his own cunning. Arthur's hand had itched for his sword. Tears had filled his eyes. No, Merlin, not you too…

That was luckily when they had been caught by sentries posted around the camp. The same sorcerers who had been handing Merlin messages suddenly appeared behind them, and before Arthur could draw his sword, the seven of them had been overpowered and brought into camp, pushed to their knees in front of Merlin.

He had looked down at them with curiosity tinged with wariness.

"Should we kill them, master?" For the rest of his life, Arthur would remember the look in Merlin's eyes as he slowly swept his eyes down the line, resting on each of them in turn until he had met Arthur's eyes. A tingle had raced between them then. Merlin-his dear brother-had merely shaken his head. "They've done no wrong. Let them go," he ordered. "But, master!" One of the women protested. "What if they heard your plans? They might warn Morgana!" She cried. Merlin was already studying some far off idea of his; squinting at the distance as if it were just there and he had trouble making it out.

"These people are not in league with Morgana. I can see it in their eyes, Shrena. There is no evil there, and besides, even Morgana fears the witch we are facing. She will stay out of this my battle; I have assurances from the lady Avalon herself. Obey me now," and they had.

Arthur had scrambled to his feet, about to scream, about to yell, wanting to take Merlin by the shoulders and shake him, demand to know why? Why are you breaking my heart like this, Merlin? But it did not matter, for at that moment, a woman had come forth screaming something about her dead daughter, and that the Pendragon should die, and how her mistress was coming to get him…The usual blabber of a crazed person.

Merlin had turned to her with an expression scarily like Gaius, let her run her mouth until she was gasping and spitting in the arms of the guards whom had run forward to grab her before she touched Merlin, and smiled coldly.

"So you wish to harm him?" he had inquired softly. The woman had not answered, instead letting out a shriek as her eyes glowed gold. Instinctively, Arthur moved forward, about to jump in front of the fire ball that suddenly came from her mouth flying towards Merlin.

That was the first time he saw Merlin perform Magic. Was when he raised a hand calmly, eyes dark, and made the fire dissolve into thin air. His eyes had glowed gold for only a tiny second, and Arthur had nearly fallen to his knees from the heart break. Merlin had magic. His Merlin.

Arthur was exhausted from his efforts now. Merlin wasn't waking up. He had not yet responded to Arthur's calls, commands, pleads… And the battle still waged around them. The others had been drawn away to coordinate or fight, wanting to escape the reality of what had just happened, who they had just lost.

Man killed man, sorcerer shrieked spell at sorcerer, brother turned against brother. Morgana was dead. She had been killed by Merlin. Arthur had slain Mordred. No one had slain him yet, though he wished they would. Arthur looked up at the sky.

It was blood red, the clouds streaks of gray in the atmosphere. The sky poured buckets of heavy rain as Arthur cradled Merlin in his arms, kissing his forehead, running fingers through his cold locks, whispering assurances into large ears.

Merlin wouldn't wake up. Arthur stared up at the sky, letting the rain wash over his face and beat his skin painfully. Then, he opened his mouth before he drowned in the snot, and blood and sweat and tears and rain, and he screamed because Merlin wasn't waking up. He wasn't coming back.

In the prophecies, it had said that Arthur would die at Camlann in a battle. Because of Mordred's revenge, Arthur's path had been reshaped by the very man who had been meant to end it and so the death stroke had been given to another. His other half. His warlock, protector, friend, guide, brother. At first his scream was quiet, he had been talking to Merlin so long that his throat was hoarse, but eventually the jagged remains of his broken heart found a place in his throat and soared free on the plains of Camlann in one eternal name.

"MERLIN!"

"Will you be needing anything else, sire?" George was no Merlin, no one could possible compare, but he did do a good job. He stood before Arthur hands folded neatly behind his back, eyes glowing with an innate need to please. George was a boot-licker by nature.

Arthur wanted to tear his hair out by the roots when he saw him standing there, in Merlin's characteristic servant's garb, the day of Merlin's funeral. He refastened the red cloak of Camelot to his shoulders.

"No," he replied softly as Gaius hobbled into the room, followed by Hunith. The door was open. "You may go, George," there was no reason to say thank you. George did what he did not out of friendship or loyalty, but because he had nothing else to do with his life. He could never be anything else but a servant, unlike Merlin who could have been ruler of Camelot had he so desired. He could have been so much more.

George bowed without a word and left. Gaius and Hunith stood in the doorway. There were dark circles beneath Gaius's eye, and Hunith's were bloodshot, but they both appeared before him humbly.

Arthur had left his chamber doors open just in case one of the mourning needed him. Gwaine was better, but not enough. He had not seen Gwen or Elyan since the day before. He had no idea how he had slept, had he slept? Arthur turned to the only parents Merlin had ever had, and summoned all the sympathy he would need to get him through this day.

"Sire," Hunith began, but Arthur's sudden movement forward stopped her. He grabbed her hands gently and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek for she had birthed Merlin-his brother-and thus she was as mother to him too. "Arthur," he corrected gently. Hunith nodded, letting a feeble smile break past her lips. It reminded Arthur of Merlin. I can't do this, was his first panicked thought as the day's full significance came into focus.

The entire day would be spent cremating the bodies of those who had died in an epic battle, giving magic-users and non magic-users a proper burial alike, side by side. His council had not approved, but when Arthur had shown them the fiery wrath of his rage and stubbornness, they had quickly conceded.

At sunset they would burn Merlin. Today was a day of death, and so much of the blood was on his hands. He would not cry. "Arthur," Hunith continued. "We are worried for you," she glanced at Gaius, who nodded silently. He had not spoken more than five words since Merlin's death. "My son," Hunith's eyes welled, but she continued on with the bravery her son had always bragged about when his mother's name came up. He had loved Hunith more than his own life.

"Spoke often of your strength, your caring. He said that you would refuse to cry at first, but you would be worlds better afterwards. You haven't cried, Arthur," leave it to Merlin to know his every secret and tell Hunith all about them. The thrice cursed fool had probably done it on purpose, thinking that after he were gone he could have someone there to pick up his work of being Arthur's emotional counselor.

"Always thinking of me Hunith," Arthur muttered affectionately, voice soft, heart hardened to her words. He would not cry. "Just like Merlin," he observed. Hunith would not be put off by his fond words.

"You must let go, Arthur," she said urgently, gazing at him with desperation and pleading, so very worried for the man who had essentially killed her son.

Arthur snatched his hands from hers as if he had been burned. Let Merlin go? Merlin? No. Never. "I am the Once and Future King," he stated powerfully. "I shall never forget Emrys," he did not know why he reverted to their other names. Perhaps because Merlin was what he had always called him. Emrys was still new, still a man Arthur had been unfamiliar with even after spending a few weeks at his side traveling all over the magical realm.

"Of course not," Hunith did not back down. "I do not mean for you to forget Merlin, Arthur! As surely as I would tell him not to forget you. I am merely saying…" She pursed her lips, as if seeking words to explain what she was saying. "You cannot keep this pain inside forever, Arthur," Gaius piped in.

"I can see the serrated edges of your heart in your eyes, sire. Pain follows you like a raincloud. Guilt is in your every word. I should know. I feel it too…" Arthur turned his back to them. Pain, so much pain flew as an arrow and lodged in his chest. He was choking with it, drowning in pain as Merlin had drowned in his own blood. His knees felt weak all of a sudden, and he was tired. All Arthur wanted to do was collapse into bed and never rise again.

He walked across the room, gulping, and slowly laid a hand on his golden sword, Excalibur. The Sword forged in dragon's breath at the hand of his friend. The sword from the stone. It was sitting on the table by his bed. Usually Merlin would leave it there after polishing. Arthur had not taken it with him when they followed Merlin that morning. He had grabbed it only to charge into battle at Camlann, all of Camelot's troops behind him.

At that battle, he and the sword had become one. He had blended into the magic of the beautiful weapon as easily as if it were his destiny to do so. It was, Merlin had laughed. This sword was the last thing he had of his faithful servant besides the scarf he had tied around his wrist.

He had tried to give it to Hunith, but she had insisted he keep it. For that reason alone did he tolerate their presence now, because he knew, as they knew, what it felt like to lose the sun.

"You think you know how I feel, Gaius," he whispered, wrapping his fingers around the sword's hilt. "And I admit, a father's grief is special, it is unequaled. A mother's grief is unique as well, it is unparalleled. But though you two have your own brand of pain, do not think for a moment that it can compare with my own," He turned slowly, and knew by the shock on their faces that his eyes were dead. Quite like Merlin.

Arthur held the sword in his hands reverently, gently tracing the tip with a finger. He had killed Mordred with this sword, gladly. "A brother's despair… I feel that but not only that, I feel a friend's guilt. I feel a ruler's desolation. I feel…" he glanced down at his sword. There were tears running down Hunith's face. Gaius stared at him emotionlessly.

"I feel the anguish of the Once and Future King because Emrys is gone. I am a half coin, I am courage and my magic is departed. I am sword and steel and heart, and for the life of me I cannot reach any of whatever I used to feel because Merlin had it. Do you know what is it to look into your soul and find the contents missing? Just like that. Poof. Gone," he turned and grabbed the sheath. The golden light glinting in the sun, Arthur carefully slid Excalibur back into its protective sheath, and placed the belt round his hip. He was done. He was King. He would not cry.

"So you tell me to let go of my pain, to accept that he's gone, and I appreciate the concern but I cannot. I will not. No man is worth your tears," he let out a bitter guffaw. He was such the fool.

"Merlin is worth more than any person within this kingdom can give. He built this kingdom, and he alone will be in my thoughts from now on. He wouldn't want me to cry," so there. He said it, and it was done.

Hunith took a trembling step forward. "But he would not want to see you in so much pain," she wavered. Arthur sighed, but what could he say to that? He knew it was true, yet he would not cry, could not let this pain go. He shouldn't have died then.

"Come," he ordered, walking past Merlin's parents. "We must begin the day. It will be long, and you both have seats of honor near Gwen." He did not look back, because he could not stand to see the ache he had caused them either. Arthur Pendragon had caused too much horror these past few years. To see more damage…

He would not cry.

"My King?" It was Alator, moving into his tent from the pouring rain. He lowered his hood respectfully. Arthur, sitting on his bed listlessly, did not look up at Merlin's right hand sorcerer. "Yes, Alator?' he inquired softly.

Alator walked forward, and without preamble knelt at Arthur's feet. Arthur looked up, unsurprised but aching inside. This was Merlin's servant, not his. So why…? "Emrys extracted an oath from us all, My King," Alator explained, head bowed.

"That when he fell," Arthur groaned as another pang of despair wracked his heart. He trembled with the force of it. He heard Alator sniffle, just slightly. "We would serve you until our dying days. I come to finish that pledge. All of magicdom bows before the Once and Future King," of course Merlin had made them swear as such. Arthur let his gaze wander over Alator's earnest but heartbroken face. He had loved Merlin, this Alator. Arthur had seen it. Slowly, he let a hand wander over the space between them and land on Alator's shoulder. The Catha looked up, eyes brimming.

"You aren't changing loyalties," he assured the stricken man. "Because The Once and Future King bowed before Emrys."

After he had seen Merlin do magic, Arthur's head had spun. How long had Merlin lied to him, how had he hidden it from him for so long? The next words however, had redeemed a friendship about to be lost. Merlin had slowly waltzed over to the woman fearlessly, hand still up in defense, and leaned in. "Tell your mistress," he had growled, golden eyes flashing. "That Camelot and Arthur Pendragon are under the protection of Emrys, and if she wishes to take it, then she will spend the rest of eternity fighting me for it," his eyes had softened then.

"And I'm sorry about your daughter, truly I am, but a new time is coming. Arthur will bring peace. I have foreseen it," and then he had glanced at the guards. They had dragged the woman away, sobbing.

Arthur and the others stood where they were, dumbstruck. "Increase the number of spies in Camelot. The only way for that witch to get in is to get in from the inside and I want Arthur protected at all times. Switch some of the guards with sorcerers….Why are you still here?" He had suddenly asked the awestruck group of non-magic users. "We want to learn," Gwaine had piped in, starting them on one of the greatest journeys ever made. "We want to know about magic. Will you teach us?"

Merlin had looked shocked for a moment, along with the rest of the camp, before he slowly nodded. Gaius had protested loudly, insisting that they were spies for the Witch, but Merlin had waved him and all the others away.

The seven of them had followed Merlin then as he rode out with Alator, Gilli and Finna to different parts of the kingdom. He had met with druid leaders, sorcerer queens, forest spirits, creatures of the old religion… He was compiling an army to fight for Camelot before 'the witch' as he called her could attack. "If she wins over Camelot," Merlin had warned them over the campfire one night.

"Then she will destroy everything and everyone, sparing not a single sorcerer or warrior in her tirade. She is the opposite of me. She is everything selfish, hateful and malicious. The Immortal daughter of evil, and I am destined to bring her to her knees," He was compiling an army of magic users to protect him. Arthur.

It had been the best three weeks of his life. Arthur had ridden dragons, attended street magic shows, watched men breathe fire and women control water. He had met The Lady Avalon, Balinor, seen the spirit of Lancelot, and Kilgarrah. He had watched Merlin in a role that he had never imagined.

The role of a leader, and he had done it as not the King of Camelot, Knight, champion… But as a person. He had watched through his own eyes and another body as Merlin laid all that he was before them. After the three weeks was up, they had returned to the outskirts of Camelot's borders, almost a thousand men strong, all loyal to the idea of Emrys and his Once and Future King. Mordred had vanished in the night a stents were pitched up. Giant clouds, blackened and horrible had rolled towards Camelot on the horizon.

"It is she with her army of demons and nonbelievers," Merlin had stated softly, watching the clouds as if in a trance. "She calls to me," Arthur had asked if Merlin answered, and the warlock laughed. "Yes, I told her to keep her grubby hands away from my king," he had joked. And Arthur had laughed, touched.

That night, the night before the battle, he had heard Merlin and Gaius arguing over something. Gwen had caught words such as "Destined…unsure… Protect… Camelot…Sacrifice.. Duty…And most of all: "I'm sorry, Gaius" and from a sorrowful Kilgarrah they had learned that this was to be the battle of Camlann. The battle where Emrys would clash with the Witch, or Arthur would clash with Mordred. One of the heroes would die, and since Arthur was in Camelot, that left only Merlin to give up his life.

Merlin knew this. He had planned it.

Relieved that he was able to be in the battle after all, Arthur had helped Merlin into some armor the night of the battle seriously. The others stood around, sharpening swords and muttering between themselves softly in the warm tent. "You must not rush the battle. Don't do anything foolish," Arthur was coaching as he handed Merlin the gnarled stick of Emrys.

"I know, Arthur. This isn't my very first battle, ya know," and in that sentence, the had learned the truth. Merlin had laughed at their stricken faces and stammered remarks. "Do you really think I wouldn't recognize you, Arthur? Or you, Gwen? Leon? Elyan? Gwaine? Percival? You may have changed your voices, and your faces, and your clothes…But I know the way you all walk, the way you talk, the way you breathe and laugh. I know you past the skin, how could I not? You all are my family and I saw you from the beginning."

That was why he had allowed Arthur and the others to accompany him on his missions. He had wanted them to see the real him before… It hadn't mattered. Snatching off the rings that had allowed them to look as they did, the others had argued vehemently that they were not letting either Merlin or Arthur out there.

So Merlin had put a sleeping spell on all of them.

"No… Merlin, don't do this…" Arthur had gasped, eyelids drooping into a deep sleep. He had felt soft fingers gently stroke his hair into sleep as Merlin whispered his goodbye. "And since I won't be there tomorrow to say it…Good morning, my King. Good morning… And Good day,"

They had all woken up in Arthur's room in Camelot. The doors and windows were locked. There was no way of escape… Somehow, they had done it anyway. They had done that and Arthur had ordered his Knights to suit up. They had ridden hard all night to Camlann, every moment Arthur fearing for the life of his friend.

The army arrived in time to push back that of the witch. She had already fled, leaving only her two servants there to fight. Morgana and Mordred. The fight had been on, Morgana and Emrys fighting with dragons in the air while Mordred and Arthur battled it out with swords down below. He had killed Mordred. Merlin had killed Morgana, when a last fireball shot him out of the sky.

Arthur had arrived too late to save him.

"Do you swear to uphold the sacred laws of the Old Ways?" Arthur, on one knee next to Guinevere, gulped in a dry throat as he waited for it to happen. Outside of the tent, in the rain, his Knights and people watched as he was crowned King again. As destiny had allowed.

"I solemnly swear," he said in unison to Gwen. Their hands were linked, heads bowed more in grief than in readiness. "Do you swear to protect the creatures of the old religion as strongly as your protect your own?" Merlin was my own. Tears ran down Gwen's face, but they were soaked from the rain. No one could tell.

"I solemnly swear," the rain almost drowned out their statements, but everyone knew that it was there already. Arthur could hardly believe he was being ceremoniously crowned king on a battlefield still surrounded by dead bodies in the rain after his best friend died. It felt surreal. Whose idea had this been again? He did not believe he had thought it up. Probably Leon.

"And do you swear to rule with all the kindness and goodwill that the prophecies foresaw?" In other words, do you agree not to be the prat you were before Merlin. Arthur cracked a smile at the thought. "I solemnly swear," he wished Merlin were there.

"Then by the power vested in me by Emrys," Alator gulped as he raised the bloodied staff of Emrys and gently poked first Arthur's shoulder, then Gwen's. "I declare you The Once and Future King and Once and Future Queen of Albion! Rise, royals!" the thundering noise of clapping had gotten rid of the sound of rain, but not the heaviness in Arthur's heart.

Merlin should be here.

At last, when the sun was setting on the wide horizon, staining Camelot a beautiful golden color quite like Merlin's eyes, did they burn the last body. Merlin's body in the courtyard where the warlock had witnessed his first execution.

Merlin had always loved sunset. He had loved to sit on the ramparts and watch it sink from the sky, smiling. Arthur knew. At times, when the intrigues of Court bored him or the burdens of leadership grew heavier on him, he would order Merlin to bring dinner out to the ramparts and they would watch the sun fall together. Those ramparts were one of the places where their friendship had really grown. Where it had prospered.

Arthur was above, in the balcony. At his side sat Gwen. Her cheeks were already wet with the tears she had shed for the people sent into the fire before. It was not usual for so many to be given the high honor of cremation by the King, but this was Camlann, the battle where his men had been forced to fight at the side of sorcerers.

There were sorcerers in the crowd. Honestly Arthur was surprised nothing violent had happened as of yet. Perhaps the veil of grief was so strong that people had just forgotten or disregarded any difference in talent or title. The Nobles gallivanted around with the servants because almost everyone had lost a loved one at Camlann. Druids sat with Knights in the barracks, quiet with longing, speaking their old battle tales seriously. Bards and poets would walk into the woods, and pat and soothe Aithusa as if she were a lonely puppy. Merlin had brought peace with his death, a fragile, unnatural peace, but Arthur was only grateful that the terror would begin later-when he was ready.

If he could ever be ready again.

Behind his wife stood the six Knights of the Round Table, stoic, composed but bleeding on the inside. Arthur could see it every time he turned. A few times already he had turned to see Gwaine half leaning against Percival, as if he could hardly keep himself up beneath the tension any longer. At his left was Hunith. At Gwen's right sat Gaius. They all wore black.

From below, men brought out the body of Emrys, covered by a red Camelot cloak-Arthur's oldest one- and laid the body down on the unlit pyre. The entire assembly fell silent. They knew who that was, and they looked to their king for the words none of them knew how to say, and yet all of them felt in the deepest part of them.

Arthur stood. He had tried writing a speech, and then decided that it was the most idiotic thing he could ever have thought of. He didn't know how to write speeches. Merlin had done that in the past years of his kinghood. Besides, Merlin did not deserve just a speech.

He deserved the truth.

He walked to the edge of the balcony, and let his eyes stay on the body of his best friend and protector. He could not see Merlin's actual face past the cloth of his cloak, but he knew what it looked like. Pale, cold, unmoving, innocent. As if Merlin were merely asleep. How easily it would be to believe it, how nice. Arthur wracked his mind for words, and finally gave up. He started at the beginning.

"I'm sure many of you will remember a day, five a half years ago, when a strange boy walked into the gates of Camelot. He was gawky, uncoordinated, naïve and utterly hopeless at self-preservation," he heard Hunith let out a sob. He inhaled a shuddering breath, but went on. He would not cry.

"And I am sure all of you remember that same day a crowned Prince was harassing his servant. He was arrogant, selfish, insecure, and utterly, hopelessly lonely. I now know that it was destiny that bid Merlin come and challenge me that day, despite the fact that he had never even been able to work a pitchfork correctly, much less any sort of weapon," he got a few broken chuckles. Gwaine guffawed in agreement behind him.

"I could kill you with less than that."

Memories spun a pattern in front of his eyes, reshaping time until he knew that what he had seen had only been a mere shadow compared to what was happening. Destiny worked in mysterious ways.

"Later, he told me that he won using magic. I'm glad he did. I had that boy put in the stocks for insolence, but I did not have him killed as my father would have. No. There was something about him that stopped me, some hidden secret that I had been waiting for…"

"There's something about you, Merlin…"

"Magic has been outlawed for twenty years in Camelot. It was suicide coming here, but Merlin wanted to find a place where he belonged, a place to fit in. He wanted to learn how to use his power, so he came. He saved my life for the first time a few nights later, and my father made the biggest mistake of his life and the greatest success of mine. He made Merlin my manservant."

"You will be Arthur's manservant!"

Arthur smiled sincerely for the first time in days when the memory of Merlin's horrified face surfaced in his mind. He had not bene very happy about his father's reward for Merlin either.

"Simply said, we hated one another. I did everything in my power the next few weeks to make Merlin leave, but he would not," he heard Leon snicker behind him. The older Knight had been there to see those few weeks. He probably enjoyed thinking about it.

"He met me insult for insult, challenge for challenge. He did not bow before my title, but shaped me into a man worth being bowed too,"

"Yes. And maybe one day you'll magically transform into a handsome Prince. Or, no, magic is outlawed so that will probably never happen. Come on, let's go."

"But as time wore on, and we spent more time with each other, went on more hunts, quests, dares and challenges… We became friends."

"You're a riddle, Merlin… But I've grown to quite like you."

"I did not know that Merlin had magic. I thought as many people do, that magic corrupted and was evil. I had no one to dissuade me from the thought. Yet I learned more about how to be a just and fair ruler at Merlin's side than at my own father's." his unyielding father.

"You've just got to believe in them because if you don't, then they'll sense it, and the battle will be lost before its even begun."

"And behind my back when I wasn't looking, Merlin saved my life more times than anyone could possibly count. Against priestesses, and monsters, sorcerers and malicious kings. As I thought he was cleaning the stables, he was actually saving all of Camelot. Why? Because it was his destiny; and because he cared for me in a way that... Even now I don't fully understand, but I do share,"

"Oh come on, I'm missing your usual prattle!"

"Merlin was always at my side during the hardest times of my life. Morgana's betrayal, my father's illness and finally death, the banishment of my wife, and betrayal of my uncle and my Knight. He was there through it all, yet I missed the greatest grief's of his life. I missed it when the woman he loved died, and his best friend, his father… He stood by me still. He stood by Camelot, and what was right,"

"I'm happy to be your servant until the day I die," Arthur's breath hitched in his throat. He had to stop, chest heaving with held-in tears. He steeled his jaw, feeling all of Camelot staring upon him. Slowly, his eyes rose to the blinding heat of the golden sun, and imagined that it was Merlin with him then.

He could go on if only Merlin were with him.

"I am not telling you this because I want you to feel as if you owe Merlin something, or as if his life is more important than any soldier who died on that battlefield for the ideals of freedom and justice, no…H-he would not want that. I tell you these things because the man being honored here today should never be forgotten," I will not cry. I will not forget. I will never move on.

"His sacrifices and his struggles should be held as an example to us all of what a good person truly is, and what true love looks like. I only met the real Merlin Emrys a few weeks ago, and I will not disremember his pure heart, his selfless soul… I will not forget his warm golden eyes because he was more than just a manservant or a warlock," I hope you can hear me wherever you are, Merlin.

"He was my brother. The other side of the coin. My soul," and with that Arthur Pendragon lowered his arm in the signal. He could not look down as they set fire to the body of his brother. How many nights had Merlin dreamed of being burned alive? How many times had he feared…? No. Arthur must not think of that. Not now. Instead, he let the cool memories of his time with Merlin on earth wash over him, shielding him against Gwen and Hunith's violent sobs and Gwaine's hitching breath.

"I always thought that if things would have been different we would have been great friends."

"You've always done what you believed to be right."

"You puzzle me Merlin. Are you truly wise or just spouting off ideas hoping one of them is right?"

"I came back because you're the only friend I have and I couldn't bear to lose you,"

"Merlin! I thought we'd lost you!"

"Yes, its because you're a clumsy oaf now pick that lot up,"

"You are a loyal friend, Merlin."

"I swear, I will protect you or die at your side."

"I'm serious. You're becoming a very good king,"

"A servant who is brave, incredibly loyal and to be honest, not at all cowardly,"

"And I believe in you. I always have..."

"Arthur? Arthur!" He gasped, snatched from the realm of his memories as violently as if he had been stabbed in the gut. Arthur blinked several times, realizing that his eyes were uncomfortably dry; he closed his eyes for a moment, hoping to moisten them once more. When he opened them again, his vision focused.

The sun was gone, having left the sky to its own devices. The moon and stars reigned now. How long had he been standing there, staring into the sun while his mind wandered? In a flood, Arthur's pain returned. In the time of his memories, he had not felt a thing.

Probably because Merlin was as close to him as he could be while Arthur remembered. The pain had vanished for a moment. And now it overwhelmed him again. Arthur groaned, feeling his knees grow weak. It hurt, it hurt so much. Merlin was dead.

He looked down to see Guinevere staring back at him with wide, hanging unto his arm for dear life with worried eyes. Behind her the others also stared at him with concerned gazes. Arthur offered a reassuring smile that did nothing to hide the agony in his eyes. "I'm alright," he lied breathlessly. He felt as if he had bene holding his breath, too. Arthur's eyes sought the pyre below.

Nothing was left but a pile of ashes. A lump lodged itself into his throat. Arthur looked away quickly. "You've been out here for hours," Gwen argued softly, clinging to him as if she suspected he might fall down at any moment. "Its not over yet Arthur, we still have the banquet," Gwaine told him gently.

Arthur groaned again, this time in frustration. He just wanted to be alone. He wanted to lay upon his bed and let his mind go to a place that did not hurt, somewhere where he could be free once more, where he could be whole.

He wanted to be with Merlin.

But he was King, and more importantly, his family depended on him. He gazed at their wary faces with compassion. "I can excuse you all if you'd like," he said softly, eyes sliding to Gaius and Hunith pointedly. "We will go through this together Arthur," Hunith said with quiet passion. "Until the bitter end," Arthur nodded gratefully, once more stunned at how loyal this woman could be towards scum like him.

He took Gwen's hand in his own, and squeezed. "Our people await, my queen," how he wished it were not so. Gwen did not seem fooled by his show of bravado, but she gave a tiny smile and squeezed his hand in reply.

"Long live the King! Long Live the Queen!" As they walked from the security of the tent, newly crowned Once and Future king and Queen, into the pouring rain, Arthur felt nothing but the mud squelching beneath his boots and the emptiness of not having a familiar presence in the crowd. On either side of them, Knights, warriors, sorcerers and druids shouted the words Arthur had heard so many times before but never cursed as much as he did now.

"Long live the King! Long Live the Queen!"

But he wanted to die. Why were they wishing this curse of long life upon him? Didn't they see his anguish, couldn't they understand that he was only half of the whole, that he was no King but an empty vessel? Arthur's face stung as the rain pushed against it. The skies were weeping, why was no one else? Had his crowning made them forget where they were? Whom they had lost?

His Knights understood. Arthur saw it in the rigid way Gwaine held himself and the downcast way the others clapped mindlessly. As if they were unaware they were doing so. They understood, why could no one else

What if I don't want to live?

They walked across the encampment until he and Gwen were in their own tent. The shouting gradually died down as people dispersed. The ceremony was over. The Knights prepared to go back to Camelot, and the remaining magic-users prepared to go back to their hiding holes and small villages until the King called upon them again.

Arthur stood listlessly in the shade of his tent, watching As Gwen silently unhooked his cloak from his shoulders and set it down. The question kept coming back to mind again and again, so many times flashing that Arthur's fingers itched for his sword. Just one quick movement…No! Merlin would never want that!

But Merlin wasn't here. He was gone.

What if I don't want to live?

It took quite a while for Arthur to slip away from the milling, solemn crowds of nobles, druids, and Knights in the grand hall and down the castle. After he had slipped out from the notice of all the people keeping an eye on him, Arthur had managed to meander around the empty, cold halls of the castle, feeling more lonely than he ever had in his life.

I wish I had never met the fool, and had I known he would put me through this then I would never have let him out of the stocks, he thought angrily, but the anger quickly died away into horror at his thoughts. After all Merlin had done for him, and he wished that…? What if Merlin's spirit had heard? Arthur cringed at the idea of hurting his best friend even in death. Was he really so selfish? How many more people will I hurt in my life? He wondered bitterly. I'm so sorry Merlin. You've given your life for a fool of a man

Arthur had run through the castle, hoping to escape his own misguided thoughts. He couldn't wish things like that, he just couldn't… When his lungs were near to bursting from his run, he landed on the front steps of the castle, where he and Merlin had sat after they had freed Camelot from Morgana's oppressive rule.

He heard the faint sounds of the people still inside of the castle and sighed as he rested his elbows on his knees. How had anyone ever gotten any sleep with that racket?

Everyone in the grand hall above wanted to stop and speak with the king, giving their condolences, swearing that they would do their best to have magic put back into place…None of them meant it. The struggle for magic to be free anywhere, Merlin's dream was going to be a hard one to fight.

Arthur so wished that Merlin were there, because he was going to do it. It was only right that Merlin see the fruits of his labor. But he could', he was gone for good now. Arthur was on his own.

The King of Camelot pulled his cloak in around himself and shivered, though the night was warm. His eyes went to the sky, the endless, unchanging sky that never left its post. His pupils danced among the constellations, remembering when he had told Merlin about the different names and how the boy's eyes had lit up as he listened eagerly.

I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye, Arthur had been in such denial, he had been so desperate not to let Merlin go, to keep him that he had never said what really needed to be said, he had never told Merlin just how much he meant to him and the people around him.

Arthur inhaled a shuddering breath. He had never given merlin any more than second's sign of how much he cared. Maybe that he did care, but not how deeply. Did the man even know that Arthur mourned him? Had he any idea the grief that wracked the King's frame and would one day be the death of him?

The day could not come soon enough.

Arthur glanced up at the ceremony still happening, and felt disgust for himself rage high. He did not deserve the crown-enchanted by some of magicdom's best - on his head. He did not deserve the scarf tied around his wrist, which Arthur pulled out now and gently in his fingers. He did not deserve to be the once and Future King. Why had destiny chosen him when he was so unworthy? When he had done so much wrong…

Wetness came to his eyes, but Arthur held them back. He had gone these past few days without tears. The streak could not be broken now because he had finally realized just what and who he was for the first time ever. He was not King, nor man, nor Knight nor noble. He was the doom of Emrys, for the loyalty shown to him had been the warlock's undoing.

Arthur's fingers were trembling around the scarf in his hands. Slowly, feeling that this moment-under the stars Merlin had so loved and the moon that had watched his warlock weep so many times-was sacred. He felt as if he needed to say something-or explode. It was too late for Merlin, but not too late to admit what he should have long ago, and admit it as a person, not a king. So Arthur Pendragon stood slowly, and stumbled into the forest.

He knew the way by heart. After all Merlin had warned him to know where to go if he ever needed help, and Arthur had needed help the second Merlin had died. He needed…. Something, anything, to ease the pain of the storm inside.

Raging through the underbrush blindly, uncaring if he were endangering his life and thus Camelot's, Arthur bounded noisily through the trees and bushes until he came to his destination. He did not care who he left behind, or even what was behind. All thoughts of huis past fled him, and he hardly could see where he was going past all the underbrush, so the future did not matter either. It was the just the present, and presently he was running, seeking an outlet for the agony and rage he felt inside.

He was a coin without the other half. He was a soul torn asunder. He was… There. He had arrived to the place that he knew would shield him from the past and the future. The place of judgment and redemption, betrayal and loyalty, doubt and belief, success and failure.

The Lake of Avalon.

Gasping, he burst into the clearing. As if he had stepped into another world, the air suddenly fell silent. The trees did not rustle. It was cool, and serene. Moonlight mirrored off the water, a fat white globe reflecting in the healing waters. In the middle of the lake, the Tower still stood.

Arthur glanced at it briefly. The lake waters were still, not a ripple showed. There were no animals, yet the place buzzed with life. As if everything were more than it was.

The moonlight provided more than enough Light, the stars provided more than enough company. Arthur inhaled deeply, knowing that if anywhere could ease his heart only marginally, if anywhere could get the words he was about to say to Merlin's spirit, it would be this sacred plain.

Staring straight ahead, Arthur humbled himself. He took off his crown first, setting it on the mossy ground on the outside of the clearing. Then, he let the cloak he wore flutter beside it. Arthur quickly snapped off his military decorations, his chainmail, his armor….

And at last, he threw Excalibur away. Now only in his thin cotton under shirt, boots and riding pants, with Merlin's scarf tied around his wrist, Arthur approached the lake, chastened, naked, vulnerable. There were no walls to hide behind, no titles or accomplishments to taint his sincerity. There was no King in this place. Only a man, only a brother.

When he was at the water's edge, Arthur Pendragon fell to his knees. His heart hammered in his chest. His abominable pride attempted to strangle him in place. You are the King! You are not supposed to be bowing to anyone! He inhaled deeply. Merlin had been Emrys, and he had bowed before someone.

Arthur closed his eyes, and imagined Merlin's face right there, so close. He imagined that Merlin was at his side instead of…Gone. He imagined that they were having a talk that had never occurred. How did he start? What should he say?

Speak your heart, young one.

Avalon was right. He did not need a script, a speech for this. He did not need to rehearse or think about it. If he did, his pride would get in the way. He just had to talk.

"Merlin," he whispered. "Merlin…I don't know if you can hear me. I don't know if you're even there, and….And I don't know if you would want to hear what I have to say anyway, but… Please. I have no right to ask this of you, but please just listen," in his mind, he imagined Merlin nod.

He inhaled deeply.

"Sometimes I don't understand. I mean I have never understood, but now I especially don't. You always said you believed in me, had faith in me, would protect me. You called me the Once and Future King. You knew as much about magical relics and prayers as no one could compare, even Gaius…Nothing ever happened to you despite all those misadventures we got ourselves into. You remember?" Merlin's imaginary grin made a small smile perk Arthur's lips as well.

"How could I have not seen you as you were? It just seemed so natural for you to be savior of druids and sorcerers Merlin. So right. And I never saw it, never realized you were anything other than a manservant. A brave one, albeit, but… You aren't. For the love of Camelot, you were so much more! How could I go five and half years and not see it?" His heart began to slow its pace so that Arthur could feel the bite of despair leaking into his sense, devouring him. He wanted to give up, wanted to walk into the waters and never return, but Merlin needed to hear this.

Arthur needed to say this.

"And why did you stay? After all that I did to you. It still blows my mind, the things that happened to you that should happen to no man! How did you stay sane? Why did you stay? I could never forgive a man that killed Gwen, even if he did it for a good reason," Arthur still had mixed feelings about Lancelot's memory, even after Merlin and Gaius had told him that the man who had seduced his wife had not done so of his free-will.

So how the hell had Merlin forgiven Arthur for being a prejudiced, insecure idiot?

"And saving my father knowing that he was the reason you had never met your own! Pshaw! How? I have spoken to the druids, merlin. They say that it is preordained, that it is just your way to forgive and have mercy, as it was the witch's way to destroy and have hate. They say that it isn't your choice, you must forgive because you cannot feel hate. You are a spirit of mercy and light. I don't believe it however."

"Merlin, you chose to protect my father. You have always chosen to protect me and care about me! You did feel hatred and anger like every the man, I know you did, but you let it go. Somehow, you found the strength to let it go" Arthur looked up. The moon was blurred by hot tears.

"And to think of all the times I called you a girl! You were one of the best and strongest men I have ever met. What idiot thought it prudent not to force me to Knight you?"

The moonlight sparkled on the water. Arthur closed his eyes once more, sucking the tears back, sucking the sobs against his chest to wait out the day when he floated from the physical plain and saw Merlin again. No matter what, he would never give in to these horrid feelings. Not for as long s there was breath in his body.

"I'm sorry for the way I treated you. Looking back now, I really was a horrid beast, especially in the start," he brought Merlin's scarf to his nose, inhaling the deep scent of chestnut and dragon's breath still lingering. Merlin's scent, unique only to the blasted idiot. Arthur's throat lodged. His chest quivered painfully as he closed his eyes again. The things he had said to Merlin, things he had done to try and hurt the other man because he could…

Arthur trembled with emotion. "I...I wish I could start over, go back and treat you the way you deserved. Treat Morgana the way she deserved, maybe then… Why do I hurt everyone I love, Merlin? Why am I just naturally prone to being selfish, is that part of my destiny too? To be a right dollophead?" He could almost hear Merlin snickering beside him.

"King dollophead actually," his tone was affectionate. Arthur smiled feebly. "You and your words," he murmured. "I hated everything about you the day I met you, and now I'm so lost. Ironic, really. And I'm not the only one lost, Merlin. You've become quite an idol for us all here, all over the kingdom."

"Even some of my nobles kept glancing over wanting you to pour them a glass and give them a quick smile or snack during the meeting. I swear not a man was listening to a word of what I said; maybe that's why they all agreed with me," "its most definitely the reason, you prat!" Arthur chuckled brokenly. There was something comforting abut fooling himself into thinking Merlin was there.

"Gwen, the Knights, Gaius and your mother… She said even Ealdor is in mourning. Can you believe it? I bet you can't," indeed, he could hear Merlin's incredulous snort and roll of his eyes. "Those buffoons don't miss me they miss the sudden boost in crops they got whenever I came!"

"Don't say that, Merlin. They miss you. Aithusa does as well. She's getting stronger but not as strong as she could be if you were here. Gwaine has lost his zeal, and Percival speaks even less than ordinary. Me?… I can't go on," His voice cracked as the words finally dissolved into being.

And that was the main problem wasn't it? Every other death, his father's, Morgana's… He could move on. It hurt, but it did not cripple him. He had the responsibilities of Camelot to fall back on, His knights, wife and best friend to steer him through the haze of grief.

Without Merlin, he did not want to go on.

Merlin's horrified face showed behind his eyelids, so real, just right there as if Arthur could touch him. "Don't say that Arthur!" he cried immediately. Arthur slammed his hands on the dewy grass in front of him. "But it is true!" he choked out, and even to his own ears, his voice was not his own. It was no longer regal, confident, strong… It was broken, tear-filled, and defeated. "I miss you, Merlin. I miss you so much it's a constant ache. I can't eat, I can't sleep! I can't look at anyone or anything without thinking of you!" He surged to his feet quite without meaning it, and flung the scarf angrily to the ground.

"You idiot!" he shouted as his eyes snapped open. In the moon's reflection, he could see Merlin's face staring at him with pity and shock. He raged at him. He flung all of his fury at his condition and the unfairness of it, and the way that Merlin had not answered his pleas and calls.

He blamed the man who had given him everything for then having it stolen from him because this was Merlin's fault. He had made him love him too much and now look at what had happened!

"What gave you the stupid idea to go and leave me?! I am your King!" he punctuated this with a stomp of his foot. His fists trembled. He wanted to hit someone, kill something. He wanted all the pain to go away.

"You are my warlock; we were destined for greater things than this! But you didn't think of that, did you? When you abandoned me here to rot in my own misery? You said your dream was me, well, is this what you wanted your dream to be Merlin?" He yelled, spreading his arms out to indicate the crushed soul of a once king.

His voice slowly rose with each word until he was screaming at the top of his lungs, vocalizing his inner torment. "An empty shell? A loathing vessel of anguish and desolation?! I am no King, no man, not even a stupid beast because you left! Is this what you wanted? Answer me, you useless oaf! IS THIS WHAT YOU WANTED?" Arthur stood there heaving, the fire in his chest burning like hot fuel as hate and rage took control and weaved him anew.

He stared at Merlin, who stared at him, and for the first time, Arthur Pendragon hated everything about this man. He hated Merlin as deeply as he had the day he had met him because this was his fault. This loneliness, this horror, the breaking of his family, it was all his fault.

Merlin had made them love him too much.

And still, Merlin loved him. Arthur could see it in the blue eyes of his warlock, which flooded with shame and pain for his friend. Merlin was sad for him. He had been the one to lose his life, and he was still worrying about Arthur, even from beyond the grave. How did he do that?

"I'm sorry, my king," Merlin's face rippled in the water, filled with pain. "I have failed you. I'm sorry," and it was those words, stupid infernal words that Arthur had no right hearing, that booted the anger from him, that redeemed him. Filled his empty soul with so much pain that Arthur once more fell to his knees.

It was those words that made him cry.

"D-don't," he breathed, curling in on himself. He wrapped his arms around his midriff, hoping to scare off the darkness in his heart, wishing to the heavens that he could just die then and there because he couldn't go on. Tears ran unhindered down his face.

"Don't you dare apologize to me, not you, never you!" Arthur's eyes were caught by the scarf he had thrown a few feet before him, sunken in mud, dirty and abandoned. It used to be clean.

Was Merlin's scent even on it anymore? The pain and hollowness in Merlin's eyes, was that what he deserved in the afterlife? Did he not deserve peace, instead of the selfish King he saw on his knees before him? Arthur's own words were fired back at him by fate.

Is this what you wanted?

No, no it wasn't. And Arthur realized his mistake. He was the one who had corrupted Merlin's dream, he was the one who had done this to himself. He had wanted to remember Merlin, to see his face and feel the pain every day because he thought he deserved it, but Merlin had died so that he could be happy, so that he could be free. Arthur had thrown the sacrifice away.

He hurt Merlin.

The thought ripped sobs from his throat. "Don't cry, Arthur," Merlin sounded almost frightened. Arthur bowed his head. "Forgive me," he gasped. "Forgive me, I'm a fool. I-I didn't mean it Merlin. I didn't mean it. Forgive me," he pleaded with his imaginary friend. Arthur's body shook with sobs as he grabbed handfuls of his hair. It just hurt so much.

"I've failed you," he finally admitted to himself. "I can never be worthy of what you gave. I can never deserve it, but I want you back… Please forgive me, but I want you back. I need you," his voice was stolen by eth force of his tears then, Arthur could hardly breathe.

"My time is at an end, Arthur. Its your turn now," Merlin tried to comfort him. Arthur shook his head. "No! I miss you, Merlin. I never told you, but I do. You were the only friend I had, you gave me everything I have, my whole family. I cannot be in paradise without you," tears dripped from the edge of his quivering chin. He held his aching heart.

"You were my best friend, my soul, my brother. And I loved you more than anyone," Merlin stared at him with shock. He hadn't known. Arthur could see it in his eyes. He had never known.

"I would never hurt you on purpose," he tried to convince his own imagination, shivering. "Please believe me, I would never wish the life you had upon you. You should have let me die with you, Merlin. I want to be with you. I miss you more than I can say... My beloved brother, please come home. Please come back, Merlin….P-please," Arthur had no more strength.

Shuddering, sobbing harder than he ever had in his life, Arthur Pendragon leaned forward and pressed his forehead to the ground. He couldn't stand, and his voice box was overtaken by only a few words. "Please, please… I lost my little brother. Someone help me, please…" he begged but knew it was to no avail. Merlin wasn't coming back. He had been talking to his own imagination this entire time.

He was trapped in darkness, he was surrounded by pain and self-loathing. He was lost. And there was no way back. Arthur wept every tear Merlin deserved, and the earth absorbed his pain into its roots. The Lake of Avalon understood.

Arthur did not know how long he sat there upon the ground, weeping.

He did not notice the reflection of Merlin vanish and leave him only the moon and stars. So absorbed in his pain, Arthur did not see the surface of the water foaming. Did not notice the golden light that spoiled from the bottom of the lake, steadily moving closer. He did not hear Lord Emrys and Lady Avalon kiss goodbye, and he surely did not notice two familiar boots step on shore, dripping wet. Arthur only leaned into the strong arms suddenly cradling him, sure that it was his imagination that he was sobbing into a chest that smelled familiar, one that had a beating heart beneath it. He imagined the warmth suddenly spread around him as the man from the lake gently took off Arthur's oldest cloak and tucked Arthur into it against his chest.

"Its alright, Arthur. Shh…Shh… Be quiet now, my brother. Its alright," and the comforting reassurances and voice was surely of his imagining too. At length, when the moon was tilted to a different angle in the sky, Arthur's tears ran out and left him with only hiccupping breaths. He was gripping the front of the man's shirt in his hands. There was someone tenderly rocking him, stroking his hair and rubbing his back.

There was a heart beneath his ear, strong, steady, beating.

It was a solid body, a living one. Arthur gasped when he realized that his imagination was actually reality and scrambled back, instinctively going for his missing sword. "Who…?" He swiveled around, and gasped.

Merlin.

He looked as he had before the battle. In his characteristic servants garb. His scarf, muddy and dirty from where Arthur had thrown it, was back around his neck and the ruby Camelot cloak set around his thin shoulders. He was on his knees, outlined by the moonlight, smiling at Arthur with glinting blue eyes. "Whatever happened to no man is worth your tears?" He even sounded the same. Arthur blinked, feeling as if he were about to be sick. He hurried to his feet, backing away from the… Thing. How could this be?

"You…" he had to take a deep breath before he suffocated. "You're dead," he stammered to the obvious. Merlin nodded graciously. "I was," he agreed. "You are," Arthur insisted. "I was," Merlin corrected patiently. "You brought me back," he had… Arthur had brought him back? He backed a step away, eyes wide with terror. What sort of torture was this? What kind of idiot did fate think he was? Merlin was gone. He wasn't coming back.

"Impossible," he scoffed. "Is it, my king?" Merlin asked cryptically. With more grace than Arthur had ever known him for, Merlin stood. Arthur was rooted to the spot, heart thundering in his ears. "And is a sorcerer living in the heart of Camelot not impossible too? Isn't the survival of a man bitten by the questing beast impossible? Isn't someone surviving being touched by a dorocha impossible? Isn't the Knighting of pheasants impossible? Isn't it impossible for a king to marry a serving girl? Come on, Arthur, we've done the impossible enough for you to at least half believe I'm really here," Merlin-no, not Merlin- took a step forward. Arthur took three steps back.

Merlin stopped in his advance, face softening. "Arthur," he said quietly. "I'm not going to hurt you. Can't you see? It's me. Merlin. I'm back, Arthur," for a moment, doubt and worry crossed Merlin's features. "That is what you wanted, isn't it? For me to come home?" He asked. Arthur's mouth was dry.

It felt so right, and yet…

"More than anything," he gazed at this apparition suspiciously. Lancelot had come back from the dead, too, but it hadn't been Lancelot. It had been a shade. His father had come back, but he had been a malicious spirit. So early after Merlin's death, Arthur was not sure if he could take either of those options happening. "Prove it," he dared past a hoarse throat. "Prove that it is you," he said. Merlin seemed surprised at this, but he did not argue. Instead, he only moved forward, Arthur got ready to run.

"No, wait. Stay there. I won't harm you, I swear," Merlin called with utmost honesty. Arthur forced himself to remain still as Merlin came forward. His stunning eyes remained in Arthur's the entire time, calming, soothing, so familiar that Arthur wanted to run just to get away from the fond memories they inspired.

Finally, Merlin reached him, and with exquisite tenderness grabbed Arthur on either side of his face, and tipped his head so that their foreheads touched. Their eyes never left one another. Then, as Arthur watched anxiously, Merlin's eyes flashed gold. As suddenly as if he had been stabbed in the back, Arthur felt magic shoot through him. He jolted with a gasp as he felt its familiar love course in every vein, twist around his heart, and gently squeeze.

He had felt this once before, when he had pulled the sword from the stone. He remembered how it had tingled down his arm, letting him know that it was all for him, there to serve and protect him. The sword was his; and his alone. He remembered the loyalty and love he had felt as a mere shadow to what happened now. It overtook him, and when it did Arthur could feel everything Merlin felt. He could hear the wind whispering in an ancient tongue, he could feel the life binding all things together, he could see the light dancing on the water.

He could understand the magic in the earth and air, and it was fire in his veins, the fire he felt during battle and in the courtroom. It was secure as the earth, as secure as the affection in Gwen's eyes and Gaius's chambers. This magic gave him back what had been missing in his soul. Magic was what had been missing in his soul, for he was born of it, and when magic had left the world it had taken all he had with it.

This was Merlin, pure and undiluted and unhidden. He was everything merciful, kind, and loving. He was the laughter of children and brush of cool on a hot day, he was the joy of a fire with his Knights and the passion of a night spent with Guinevere. He was everything good. It was more than Arthur could handle. With a small breath, he had sunk limply to his knees with one small exclamation.

"Merlin," he was back, he was alive.

The warlock gently lowered Arthur to his knees as he pulled away, eyes returning to their original blue. He as grinning, tears in his eyes that Arthur had not pushed him out, pushed the magic away. Arthur, for his part, had never felt so light in all his life. For the first time ever, he felt free, he felt reborn. He felt magical.

"Now do you believe me?" Merlin wondered. Arthur turned to stare at him dazedly. After a moment of just staring because for the love of all that was good, it was really his Merlin, Arthur broke out of his trance. A giant grin split his face as joy took its rightful place as king of his heart.

"MERLIN!" he nearly screamed, tackling his brother in a tight hug. They both went rolling to the ground, Arthur laughing and Merlin protesting in the old tongue. "Ah!" Merlin gasped as Arthur landed on top of him, squeezing the life out of him. "Careful there, you prat, people might come and actually think you care about me," Merlin teased breathlessly. "Shut up, Merlin," Arthur growled happily as he sat up, pulling Merlin into a more appropriate hug.

He buried his head in Merlin's shoulder, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Oh, goodness, he couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe it! Merlin patted his back, shushing him comfortingly. "Its aright. I'm here with you, my king," Merlin said as Arthur finally released him, brushing a few stray tears away. He was back.

"And you are never leaving my side again, do you hear me?" Arthur agreed fiercely. Merlin raised a Gaius like eyebrow. "Are you sure you want me to go everywhere with you?" he inquired impishly. "Yes. And you are. I'm the king, I command it," Arthur shook his head and reached out, ruffling Merlin's hair. "Girl. Idiot. Oaf," he named off, finally able to say it without pain. "Dollophead. Prat. Hobgoblin," Merlin chirped cheerily. His own eyes were shining with relief and happiness. "Hobgoblin?"

"Yeah,"

"That is not a word, Merlin,"

"It is so!"

"It is not!"

"How would you know?"

"Because nothing you ever call me is an actual word, you idiot!"

"Oh yeah? What if prat is old tongue for….Toad?"

"Toad."

"Yes,"

"That's all you've got?"

"Whatever, Arthur. It's a word."

"I'm the King. I say it isn't a word,"

"I'm Emrys. I say it is,"

"You can't call that card!"

"Why not?"

"Because…Because…That outdoes my card!"

"Ha!"

Arthur burst into laughter at Merlin's triumphant face. He had missed this so much. Merlin laughed as well, reaching out to gently bump his shoulder with Arthur's. "I've missed you, prat," he said sincerely. Arthur wrapped an arm around Merlin's shoulders.

"Not as much as I missed you, my warlock," he mumbled affectionately. He swiped a piece of Merlin's messy hair from his face. "But…Merlin, I am glad to see you, don't think I'm not, but…How are you here?" Arthur asked.

Merlin gazed at him with boundless pride and love. "I told you. You brought me back," he repeated. "But how?" Arthur inquired. Merlin smiled brightly. "You told the truth," he said mystically. "Apparently, it has to do with the trivialities of our destiny. I'm destined to make you the great king of Albion, which means that I have to be there whenever you need me. When I died, the forces of the Old religion thought you would be ready for my death, that you didn't need me anymore. I thought so too," Arthur's grip on Merlin tightened. "Don't ever think that," he scolded. "I'll always need you," he stated. Merlin's grin, if possible, got wider.

"And that's what brought me back. One of us had to die at Camlann Arthur, that couldn't be changed no matter what. But had you died, I would have had to wait a good thousand or so years until Albion had need of you again. Since I died, I only had to wait until you needed me again," he explained, Arthur felt a tinge of fury. "I've needed you for days now!" he cried. "The minute you died, I needed you back!" he said angrily. Merlin shrugged sadly.

"You were in mourning and were angry and hurt. There was nothing there that suggested you really needed me. But when you finally accepted your hurt, and let go of your pride so that the old Religion could see past it to what you really felt, well…" Merlin grinned, leaving the rest up to him. Arthur stared at Merlin, mind spinning.

He had cried for Merlin. He had let go of is prideful self-pity and cried. The tears had not taken his pain away, but it had allowed him to see past the anger and hurt to the real crux of his emotions. He couldn't go on without Merlin, he needed him. And when he saw that, it came out in his tears. The lake saw it too.

His tears had set them free.

It was enough to bring them back to Arthur's eyes. If he had just cried earlier… Blast it! He sighed. "No matter," he decided, accepting that this was just who they were. Noting could ever be easy for them. "You're home. That's all that counts," he squeezed Merlin against him possessively.

"And you are never leaving again, hear me? Matter of fact, you're moving into the castle. In the room next to mine and Guinevere's. You and Hunith and Gaius, and I might as well invite the Knights," he harrumphed.

"Now, Arthur, let us not get hasty…" Merlin warned, staring at him with wariness, as if he were afraid Arthur had lost his mind. Arthur grinned. "Well, maybe not everyone. But my new Court Sorcerer has to have a special room. And what room is more special than the one next to mine?" He wondered haughtily. Merlin stared at him as if he had most definitely lost his mind permanently. "Your what?" he croaked.

"You heard me," Arthur snickered, quite enjoying the shock on Merlin's face. "And after we set up your new room, complete with a magical study, we're going on a woman hunt because honestly Merlin, I have just been itching to have the 'who's going to be best man at Merlin's wedding' argument with Gwaine, and you…"

"Wait a minute!" Merlin cried, waving his hands as if to ward off a flock of beleaguering bees. "I will ignore the part about my nonexistent wedding for the moment, but Court Sorcerer? Arthur, I don't think I deserve…" Arthur shushed him with a single quelling look.

"And that is just one of the many reason why I call you idiot, Merlin. There is only man on this earth who deserves it, and it is you," he let his voice grow soft again. "I meant everything I said to you, my friend," he whispered. "I am the one who doesn't deserve your friendship, your loyalty. I have never deserved it, but I intend to spend the rest of my life trying. Let me take this first step," he pleaded. Merlin stared at him with moist eyes.

"Arthur…" his voice cracked. Arthur, deciding that he had cried quite enough for the next ten years, only smiled. "Unless you would like to be a Knight, of course," he considered. Merlin, if possible, went even paler than he already was. "I don't want to be one of your weird Knights!" he cried. Arthur laughed. He couldn't even take offense to the term, mostly because they all were extremely weird.

"Then you'll have to settle for being my weird Court Sorcerer," Arthur declared. Merlin, as usual, was not listening to a word of what he said. "Arthur, I really don't think…" Arthur waved a dismissive hand. "I'm the king. I command it," he waited for what he knew Merlin was going to say next. He was not disappointed. "I don't care about your bloody commands! I'm Emrys, and I… Ah! No, Arthur! D-don't tickle me, s-stop it!" Merlin yelped helplessly as Arthur attacked his ribs with wiggling fingers. Merlin struggled to get away, but Arthur was physically stronger for a good reason.

"A-Arthur, prat stop!…Too ticklish… K-knock it off, Arthur!" Merlin giggled.

"You're going to be Court Sorcerer, right Merlin?" Arthur inquired innocently.

"Alright, yes, yes! Just stop!"

"And you are going to have a room next to mine, huh?"

"O-okay, I will. I will! P-p-please no more,"

"And we are going on a woman hunt and you are going to participate, isn't that right?

Merlin hesitated. Arthur pressed his attack mercilessly, causing the warlock to squeak as he found new tickle spots along his sides. "Alright, yes! Whatever you want, please stop it!" Arthur backed away, satisfied with his work. "I'm glad we could come to a suitable compromise, warlock," he stated to the gasping man curled on the ground.

"Prat," Merlin hissed. "I'm going to turn your hair pink!" He threatened. "I'll just get Alator to turn it back," Arthur replied cheerfully, then, at the reminder that he and Merlin weren't the only ones in the world and that there were others who missed him, Arthur surged to his feet.

"Merlin! The others!" he cried. Merlin stared at him blankly, before his eyes lit up with understanding. "Oh, yeah. We should go," he stated with a nod as he stood to his feet with the help of Arthur. He glanced around, eyes lingering for a long moment on the lake before he nodded. Arthur's heart dropped as he remembered just who Merlin had left behind in the land of the dead.

He put a hand on Merlin's bony but warm shoulder. Warm with life where the last time Arthur had touched it , it had been cold and unmoving with death. "What of Freya? Your father? Will and Lancelot?" He inquired softly. Merlin turned, and though his eyes were sad, he smiled.

"They send their regards," he told him. "Won't you miss them?" Arthur asked again. Merlin gave a half shrug. "For all eternity I'll miss them," he agreed. He looked Arthur in the eyes plainly, the emotions so raw and unguarded that Arthur couldn't help but grin. He had Merlin back, all of him.

"But I'm where I'm meant to be," he said, eyes gleaming. Arthur threw an arm around Merlin's shoulders again and gave him a half hug, leading him away from the waters of Avalon and back towards the castle where a family awaited their brother and son. Arthur could not wait to see Gwen and Gwaine's faces.

It was as if the stars had returned, and the sky was once again light. The air was sweeter, the world around more lively and vivid than it had ever been, for magic had returned, and at the side of his King, there was nothing that was impossible. The future held many paths, all of them splendid.

It was as if destiny had been completed.

Arthur led his brother away. "So am I, Merlin" he said.

"So am I."

Okay, so as I am sure most of you guessed, this is AU. It happens right after "The Drawing of the Dark" in season five. I wanted Mordred to take his revenge on what he supposed was Merlin's 'betrayal', and this seemed like a good hurt/comfort moment. I know that Elyan is supposed to be dead, along with Alator and Finna, but I love them all so dearly that I could not stand to not have them in here. Anyway, thanks for reading!

~QueenYoda