Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.

It was sound that came back to him first.

He heard the hum of conversation from somewhere below him, the soft brush of rustling fabrics—a dress, perhaps Gwen's? Or one of the knights' cloaks?—and then closer, came the sounds of light breathing.

Someone was in the room with him.

Merlin felt exhausted, boneless against the familiar cushioned mattress of his bed. His body ached in every possible place, and his magic—while a comforting presence—was buzzing underneath the surface of his skin, making Merlin feel the need to shift positions. His eyelids were heavy, and a headache pulsed behind his eyes. There was a part of him that wanted to drift back off to sleep, but, his magic was prickling and uncomfortable; he wouldn't be able to ignore it and slip into dreamland.

The warlock attempted to open his eyes, but the bright light that met him had Merlin slamming his lids closed again.

He must've released a gasp, as suddenly the sounds of breathing picked up, and the creaking of a chair registered just to the left of his bed.

"Merlin?"

The voice of his king was filled with relief and hope, drifting over Merlin in a calming, and yet energizing wave of emotions. Merlin's determination surged to the surface, then, overwhelming his tired muscles, and forcing them to work.

His blue eyes blinked open, and he found himself staring into the deep and clearly relieved gaze of King Arthur.

The king gave him a soft smile, though his eyes were still searching the warlock's face in their familiar way, noting any sign of pain or ailment.

Merlin smiled back in return, finding comfort in his brother's presence.

"Wha' hap'n—?" Merlin attempted the question, but stopped as a fit of coughs wracked his sore frame and rattled his pounding head. His throat felt like sandpaper, and the warlock had the sudden realization of how parched he was.

Quickly guessing the cause of his Court Sorcerer's immediate discomfort, Arthur leaned towards the nightstand, and the awaiting pitcher and goblet.

The sound of the crystalline liquid spilling from the pitcher was heavenly to Merlin's ears, and he couldn't help but release a sigh at the relief it would soon bring him.

Arthur's hand quickly appeared again in his range of sight, this time with the cup in hand. His other hand came around Merlin's neck, and supported the warlock's head as he took large swallows from the cool cup. The warlock was breathing heavily around the goblet in his greedy attempts to gulp down the soothing water.

"Easy," the king's amused tone filled the room as Merlin quickly finished the cup and then smacked his lips together in satisfaction.

Arthur settled Merlin back against the pillows, and placed the goblet back on the stand.

The warlock could feel his brother's eyes on him again, but he remained silent in his drained but content state. He knew Arthur would answer his earlier, poorly voiced question.

"You had to be an idiot and exhaust your magic to the point of collapse, that's what happened."

"…Ah, that." Merlin's memories clicked together then, his mind's eye flashing with the image of Arthur racing towards him as he fell to the ground in slow motion. The warlock ignored the aggravated expression on his king's face, and pushed his shoulders up into a shrug, "it needed to be done."

His brother's mouth dropped open in indignation, and seconds passed before the king shook his head, snapping his jaw shut as he released a sigh into the quiet chamber. He knew from experience, the futility of arguing this point with Merlin.

"Just…" the king exhaled, "don't do it again, ok?" Arthur wiped a hand across his face and the blond locks falling into his eyes, and Merlin was struck with how tired the king looked.

"I'll try not to make a habit of it." He quipped softly. The warlock's trademark lopsided smile appeared, and a similar expression was soon mirrored on his brother's face.

Arthur looked years younger when he smiled.

The king let out a small snort, but refocused his gaze on his Court Sorcerer, his smile dipping into a concerned frown, "I'm serious, Merlin." His low voice echoed through the chamber, "Camelot needs you. I need you… So you need to take care of yourself. Don't push yourself past your limits."

Merlin's expression softened at the king's worry. "Arthur." He spoke the name with a deep swell of brotherly love swirling in his chest, "I knew what I was doing. I promise, I have no intention of leaving you or Camelot unprotected. But, if it ever comes down to me or you…"

The unspoken oath passed between them, …I will choose you.

"I know."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts. So much had happened in such a short time. Merlin ran a hand over his blankets, taking a moment to treasure the fact that he was finally home; safe and sound in Camelot, and surrounded by the people he loved and cared for.

The sensation of the sheet's smooth fabric was soothing, and he closed his eyes briefly, letting his fingers run across the silky surface until the covers caught on something. Confused, Merlin reopened his eyes and looked down, suddenly aware of the white bandage wrapped below his wrist. Right, the brand.

He sighed.

"Gaius says you'll bear the mark for the rest of your life," Arthur's voice was soft, but it was laced with guilt and the hard tone of frustrated anger—directed at his brother's situation.

Merlin nodded slowly, still staring at the stark white linens. It was hard to imagine the truth in the king's words, even though he had known the brand would be permanent; he felt numb to the reality of the mark.

"I'm sorry."

The warlock looked up, confusion written across his knitted brows, before the emotion shifted into fondness, "You have nothing to be sorry for, Arthur. It wasn't your fault."

"If I had been quicker… if we had found you sooner…" Arthur continued, his eyes gazing far away into the possibilities of the past, his expression tortured and raw.

Merlin shook his head, "There wasn't anything you could have done."

He knew Arthur didn't believe a word he said, but he tried.

"Besides, it all worked out in the end," the firm edge of Merlin's tone begged the king to listen, and for once, to shelve his heart and make room for logic, "Dariac is dead, and we now have a face for our next enemy. But, this time we can prepare to fight against Tauren; nothing like this will ever happen again."

"You're right, it won't."

Merlin tilted his head at the immediate response, the surprise clear in his eyes.

"Arthur?" he ventured, wondering where the king was going with this.

Arthur, remained silent, though, and instead turned towards the nightstand and away from Merlin's questioning gaze before he took a deep breath and began again, "This is something that you should have received right after your ennoblement, but I wanted it to be special. It took a little longer for it to be completed than expected, and then I got sidetracked by the treaty with the Druids, and…"

Merlin's lips pulled into a smile at his brother's long-winded explanation; for the first time since he had woken up, the guilt and pain in Arthur's eyes were gone, "Why don't you tell me what it is, you prat," the warlock's eyes danced with restrained laughter.

The king scowled at the interruption, but then held out his hand, uncurling his fingers to reveal the silver object. "Your signet ring."

Merlin blinked, not expecting such a gift—in fact, he'd forgotten about the nobility's need for a signet ring. He looked up at Arthur, stunned, as though unsure of what to do in the situation.

The king's expression turned into one of exasperated fondness, and he released a soft chuckle, "Just take it already," his eyes gestured to his outstretched hand.

Merlin pushed back the covers, using his weak, but uninjured arm to prop himself against the headboard. The warlock brought his attention back to the noble jewelry, and slowly, reached out his bandaged hand to grab the precious ring, completely oblivious to Arthur's slight flinch at a reminder of why he was being given the object now.

The ring was heavy in his hand, and it rolled around Merlin's palm as he shifted and brought it closer to his eyes.

It was intricately carved, with a dragon on either side of the seal; their mouths were open and breathing flames that splashed together to create the flat surface for the seal, and the tails curled together on the back of the ring. The seal itself was one that Merlin had belabored over for weeks, when, after his ennoblement, he had met with Arthur and Geoffrey to create the emblem—one to represent the house of Emrys. In the end, it was decided that the symbol would contain a merlin, flying in front of a thinly traced triskelion, wings spread and soaring, turned to the right—as if the merlin was facing the golden dragon of the king's crest.

Merlin's gaze swept over the careful details of the ring, amazed by the craftsmanship and the consideration that went into making this extraordinary gift. "It's beautiful," he breathed at last, "thank you."

Arthur watched with a smile as his brother looked over the ring, "You're welcome. But I want you to add something to it."

Merlin brought his eyes up to Arthur, raising an eyebrow in true Gaius fashion, "What?"

The king looked towards the wall for a moment, and took a deep breath, his forehead knit in tense wrinkles, and his lips pulling into a thin line. He regained control over his emotions after a few seconds, and then exhaled, lifting his sleeve. Tied around the Pendragon's arm was a red piece of fabric that the warlock recognized instantly.

"If it wasn't for your neckerchief, we never would have found you as fast as we did." Arthur's jaw clenched, and before the king could even say it, Merlin at once understood how important that tracking spell had been to his friends' search. "That directional spell you practiced with Forlythe… it was our only lead—the only way we could find you."

Merlin stared at his brother, shocked. In truth, he had forgotten about his missing neckerchief and the spell he'd placed on it. After all, it was only for testing purposes that he'd even cast the magic, and he had simply chosen the nearest object at hand. What a twist of fate, that such a small thing could be so significant.

"When you're recovered, I want you to make a more permanent spell, for the same purpose, and apply it to our rings." The king's emotions were rising again, and Merlin couldn't help but hear the concern trembling behind Arthur's words. Arthur then pushed his sleeve back over the neckerchief—causing the warlock to wonder, briefly, if he'd ever get the thing back—using the action as a way to distract himself from his vulnerable expression of emotion. "That way, we'll always be able to find each other, if something like this were to happen again," the king quickly tacked on the last, more logical phrase, obviously hoping to lighten the heavy atmosphere of the room.

Merlin was stunned for a second, his mind trying to process Arthur's words, before he gave a small nod, smiling and turning over the signet in his palm. "Of course," he agreed simply, knowing the king only needed a short answer. He slipped the ring on his finger, marveling at the weight of the pricey gift.

Arthur grinned back, and then began to rub his hands at the knees of his trousers—a self-conscious habit of the king's that Merlin had picked up on years ago.

Just then, as if to save the king from his awkwardness, a soft call of "Arthur" interrupted the new-found quiet of the space, the sound of light footsteps echoing up the spiraled stairs to Merlin's bedchamber. Hunith appeared in the doorway, speaking before she could properly observe the room, "Arthur," the quiet calm of her voice sent waves of peace washing over the warlock, "you're wanted in the throne ro—Merlin!"

The startled, but excited shout made Merlin jump, but Hunith took no notice as she rushed over to the bed, lifting her son from the headboard and enveloping him in a hug. She then pulled herself back, looking Merlin over with a trained eye before smacking him on the back of the head.

"Ow!" The warlock brought his non-wrapped hand up to the back of his black locks, rubbing it with a perturbed look on his face. Hunith merely huffed in response, her eyes blazing with the steadfast concern of a mother as his hand flopped back onto the mattress beside them.

"Don't you ever pull that kind of a stunt again!" She scolded, her hands once again returning to keeping her son upright, realizing how weak Merlin truly was, as his body started drifting back towards the headboard, the warlock's muscles incapable of supporting his thin frame.

"Mother," Merlin drew out the word, a small smile playing at his lips and his eyes shining with love for the woman who had raised him.

Hunith's excited breathing calmed, and her expression slowly shifted into a gentle, peaceful countenance. "My son," she whispered, brushing a few stray strands of hair from Merlin's eyes.

Arthur shifted in his chair, sitting tense and unsure of himself and his place as a witness of the private moment that Merlin and Hunith seemed to be having.

The warlock, though, as if sensing the king's emotions, moved his gaze to Arthur, and at once, the king seemed more relaxed. Merlin's eyes shone with fondness for the Pendragon—his brother—and his weak hand reached out for the royal's.

Arthur's grip was strong and comforting, and somehow fit perfectly with the gentle caress of Hunith's hand, as she held on to Merlin's shoulder and around his neck.

His family.

The three spent a few moments enjoying the silence and the emotions filling it. Then, Merlin shifted away from the loving embraces of Arthur and Hunith, and looking towards his mother, broke the stillness with a refreshed spirit. "Now, mother, why is Arthur needed in the throne room?"

Hunith took in the question for a couple of seconds, here eyes growing wide when she realized how sidetracked they had gotten.

"Oh!" She gasped, a quick, startled expression flickering across her face before she caught the glance of the king, "There are Druids here, from the gathering. They wish to speak with you immediately," the last word petering off in embarrassment; her motherly outburst had kept the king from seeing to his urgent business.

Arthur, though, did not look the least bit upset at making the Druids wait—probably because he was currently "taking care of" the magical peoples' Emrys, and he knew as well as Merlin how well that excuse would work in the case of the Druids—and instead, gave a nod of acknowledgement to Merlin's mother and stood, stretching his stiff muscles.

"Thank you, Hunith." The king dipped into a slight, but noble-bred bow, and then made his way towards the staircase, his red cape billowing behind him. Arthur glanced back briefly, calling back, "take care of your son; I'll be back as soon as this is taken care of." He grabbed the swirled iron rail, and began to descend, only to be stopped seconds later by a mother's sharp cry,

"Merlin!"

Hunith's call, and a slight grunt caused the king to turn around, only to see Merlin throwing the covers back, and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

Arthur's hand tightened its hold on the stair rail, his incredulity at his former manservant's disregard for his own health causing his mouth to fall open. "And where do you think you're going?"

"The throne room, of course." The warlock pushed himself off the bed slowly, his legs quivering and wobbling under his weight.

Arthur snorted, amused, and shook his head, "I don't think so, Merlin. You're as unsteady as a newborn foal!" The king motioned to the warlock's awkward stance. Hunith was standing beside her son, hands out and ready to catch him in case his legs gave out.

"I am not! I am simply getting my bearings," Merlin wavered in place for another moment, before unsteadily putting one foot in front of the other and making his way to the wardrobe, pulling out a fresh set of clothes. He turned towards his brother, a serious expression on his face, "I am not missing a meeting with the Druids." Merlin tugged his nightshirt off, and replaced it with a fresh tunic and neckerchief. His movements were wobbly and clumsy at best, but the determination in Merlin's eyes was strong enough for Arthur to acquiesce to the warlock's demand.

The king sighed, glancing at the warlock's mother, who shook her head at the stubbornness of her son. However, she directed an exasperated and fond expression towards Merlin, knowing she wouldn't be able to stop him, regardless of the fact that it was for his own health.

"Fine." The king threw his hands up in surrender, but then brought his hand to point at his brother, "But you're sitting down as soon as we get there." The look Arthur gave his Court Sorcerer left no room for argument.

Merlin, though, ignored the glare, and shot him a beaming smile, "I knew you'd see it my way."

Arthur walked back into the room, and placed a gentle hand around Merlin's bicep, intent on helping the less than steady warlock to their destination. "Let's go, you idiot," he teased fondly.

Merlin huffed, but remained silent. His eyes sparkled as he looked back at his mother, giving her a small wink before letting his brother lead him down the stairs.

They made it to the bottom at a decent pace, with Arthur taking on most of Merlin's weight as he descended the steps.

"Merlin!" The call once again rang out, but this time from someone other than Hunith. Gwen and Gaius sat at the table in the main chamber of Merlin's tower, their discussion interrupted by the newcomers. Gwen quickly pushed back her chair and rushed to the warlock, wrapping him in a hug.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Gaius frowned, obviously displeased with his ward's decision.

"I'm going with Arthur to meet the Druids. Speaking of which, we're already late enough—" Merlin smiled, and began pulling the king towards the door. "—so we can discuss my health later." His eyes flickered back and forth from the exit to Gaius, eager to avoid a conversation; the Court Sorcerer winced, already imagining the scolding his mentor would give him for pushing himself past his limits.

The physician sighed, but remained silent and merely watched as Merlin and Arthur reached the door, Gwen joining the pair by holding on to Merlin's other arm. Gaius motioned with his hands, shooing the three from the room. "I guess I should expect such a display from you. I'll be here when you return."

The warning was clear.

Merlin's smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his cheery disposition, and pulled on the royals again. "Good. Now that that's taken care of—Arthur, we've got a meeting to get to."

The king snorted at his friend's predicament, but nodded, knowing the truth in Merlin's words. He let himself be led through the doorway, sharing a quick, mirth-filled glance with Guinevere. But, before he was completely out of range, the king raised his voice, calling back to the physician,

"Don't worry Gaius, I'll have him back in bed in no time!"

And with that, they were gone, leaving the elderly man to shake his head at the youth, and chuckle to himself.

The group made their way slowly down the halls, paying little attention to the servants and nobles that skirted around them with curious gazes. Many of them had seen—and if not, heard—of the shield Merlin had constructed, and the battle that occurred just outside the walls. The blatant use of powerful magic had weakened the uneasiness of those who were strongly wary of their new Court Sorcerer, and had many, instead, finding themselves grateful that the warlock was there to protect them. A few even nodded to Merlin as they passed by, acknowledging his presence for the first time since his ennoblement.

Merlin was unable to hide his elation at this acceptance. Even as he stumbled through the halls, supported by the king and queen, Merlin felt as if he could fly. His headache had receded little, but the lingering pain no longer bothered him, as all discomfort was swept away by the thrill of the moment.

Sandwiched between his two best friends, the warlock could barely comprehend how much things had changed—and how fast his world continued to change. He had the support and love of his friends—cherished as a family in his eyes—and the freedom to protect, heal, and even play with the gift he'd sheltered deep in his soul for twenty-six years. Now, even the fearful and mistrusting hearts of Uther's people were melting, making way for acceptance of the servant-turned-sorcerer.

It was better than anything he'd ever dreamed.

A light, lilting laugh pulled Merlin from his daydream, and his head shifted up to his right at Gwen, and then up over to Arthur.

The royal couple was talking about something, but still too excited by his own thoughts, the warlock couldn't find it in him to pay attention; he just hoped it wasn't him they were talking to.

Finally, they reached the entrance to the Great Hall, the two guards straightening their posture when the royals approached.

The queen turned to look at him then, her eyes sparkling in the light, "I'll come by to see you later."

Merlin nodded, his lips forming a soft smile. Gwen rubbed her thumb gently over Merlin's hand before releasing her grip and going to stand in front of Arthur.

"I'll be in our chambers," Gwen gave her husband a soft, but loving kiss to the cheek, drawing away slowly, as if savoring the moment, "I love you."

Merlin grimaced, awkwardly averting his eyes as his two best friends stared at each other with bedroom eyes; yes, Merlin definitely didn't want to see that.

Arthur stepped back from the queen, and took a few breaths to steady his breathing—which the uncomfortable warlock noticed, had picked up during the king's closeness to Gwen—and then fixed his attention back to his Court Sorcerer.

He waited until his wife was more than halfway down the hallway before speaking.

"Oh, wipe that expression off your face," Arthur scowled, "Ever since Camlann…" His eyes glazed over, taking on a faraway look. He then shook his head, "just… it takes situations like these to make you truly appreciate the time you have left."

A shudder passed through Merlin's body at the thought of his almost-failure. He couldn't even imagine the love of husband and wife that Arthur and Gwen had almost lost.

Ever since he had found out about the immortality of Emrys, he hadn't given much thought to ever finding a love like Arthur and Gwen's. He had assumed he would never marry, opting to be alone, rather than to watch his family die and move on to the next life without him. But now… seeing the type of love his friends shared, and the acceptance and support they had given him… Merlin didn't know what to think. Now, with his immortality stripped away, was it possible to find love again, after Freya?

The warlock shook his head; this was not the time to be thinking about such things. He looked up at his brother, suddenly aware of those deep blue eyes that he could read like his own soul. He sensed Arthur's concern. The young king probably thought Merlin was being reminded of his dark memories of Camlann, and was on the lookout for a sudden panic attack.

The warlock gave a soft shake of his head, hoping to convey his steady state of mind.

"Indeed." He said softly, "We must not forget to live life to the fullest, in-between each of the battles that we fight."

Arthur's hand—still on Merlin's bicep—squeezed lightly in agreement and comfort, and then, with one last smile, Arthur released the hand supporting his brother, and stepped towards the doors; taking one last, calming breath, he signaled for the guards to open them.

As the large wooden panels swung on their hinges, the round table was revealed in its full glory, the bright sunlight cascading through the tall windows, and enveloping the room and its occupants in an otherworldly feel. "I apologize for making you wait so long," Arthur addressed his guests as he marched confidently through the throne room doors, with Merlin following directly behind him.

"Welcome to Camelot," the king stopped before the group of Druids, nodding in greeting. The sorcerers—whom besides Iseldir, Merlin remembered from the gathering as Iseldir's son Vidir, and another young leader, Sedger—followed suit, offering their honor in a bow to Merlin as well. A few more pleasantries of court were exchanged, and then the Pendragon moved the conversation forward with the practiced ease of a statesman.

"Please, have a seat," Arthur motioned to the chairs at the round table, the polished wood shining in the late morning sunshine; it was a new day.

The Druids made their way around the table, choosing the spots closest to the head chair, where Camelot's king took his place, and where Merlin was plopping down at his right hand rather ungracefully.

Arthur placed his clasped hands atop the table, his eyes glowing with an eagerness that he shared with the man beside him.

"Emrys, it is good to see you well, and once again with your king." Iseldir began, his relief making itself known in the way he smiled through his words.

Merlin nodded, his lips turning upward at the Druid's concern for him. He was, however, unsure how to reply to such a statement. Should he mention his captivity? Should he apologize for disrupting the peace talks? After a few seconds of thought, the warlock decided with answering short and sweet, "Thank you Iseldir."

He shifted in his chair, noting the attention both the Druids and his king were giving him. Merlin cleared his throat, "So, I hope the rest of the, ah, gathering, went well?"

Iseldir nodded, "It did."

Just then, Merlin caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned slightly, and a smile formed on his face the moment he recognized the individual.

"Cadan, I'm glad you could make it," Arthur greeted from the warlock's left, "I hope you are well rested after the last few days."

"Yes, thank you King Arthur; your castle is a splendid place to relax and recuperate from the journey," Cadan slipped into a chair beside his Druid brothers while the king laughed.

"I would love to find your secret, I'm afraid I rarely find relaxation in these walls."

Merlin shoved an arm into his brother's side, "That's because its your job to make it relaxing; you're the king."

"Yes, well, I thought it was your job as my Court Sorcerer and Advisor to make my life easier," Arthur shot back, a smile on his face, "though you've been doing a shoddy job of it, as of late, lazing about in your chambers."

"Sorry, I'll remember to forgo your immediate protection next time, that way you can use my magic for a massage or something equally petty and ridiculous on your next whim." Merlin's eyes sparkled, the banter slipping past his lips with ease.

A beat of silence followed, and when Arthur couldn't come up with a suitable rebuke, he scowled and cuffed the young man's head. Then, as if just remembering there weren't the only occupants of the room, the blond king cleared his throat, and his posture straightened. "In any case, I'm glad we're all together today to discuss the treaty; again, I'm sorry this could not have been accomplished during the gathering."

Iseldir's expression was a fixed mask, but Sedger and Vidir—as well as Cadan—were trying hard to contain their smiles. The bond between Emrys and the Once and Future King was indeed an interesting one.

At a glance from the eldest Druid, Sedger reached a hand into his cloak, and pulled out a roll of parchment.

A sense of déjà vu washed over Merlin at the sight, briefly reminded of the beginning of this crazy journey, which had really only started a few short days ago.

The Druid placed the paper down on the table, and carefully broke the seal, unrolling the parchment until it laid semi flat against Camelot's famous wooden surface.

"This is the same document we would have presented to you during the gathering, King Arthur," Sedger slid the paper so that it was in front of the king and his warlock, "it states our willingness as allies and as friends, as well as the terms we agreed upon in the case of the necessary items of trade, land, and magic."

Arthur nodded, leading forward to assess the treaty.

Merlin watched as his brother's face lit up, thrilled at the promise of peace with a people that Camelot had hunted for over two decades. As he looked around the room, the young warlock realized that they were creating another chapter in their destiny; magic was now free, the Druids reconciled with Camelot, and the kingdom was flourishing. And while war was coming, they would be ready.

Arthur had quill and ink brought to the table, and in a few short moments, the future was created. King Arthur Pendragon's sweeping script found its way on the bottom of the document, joined with the three Druid leaders, and Cadan's as a witness. Finally, the king turned, and held out the quill to his brother. Merlin could barely remember to breathe in that moment, as he leaned forward, his hand reaching for the object, and ever closer to the treaty that would promise a new age for Camelot and her peoples; an age of magical charms and potions being sold in the marketplace, Druids purchasing wares beside those without powers, and the harmony of two peoples living as one community.

Merlin bent down and dipped the writing implement into the ink, his hand shaking at the monumentality of his soon action.

The warlock Merlin Emrys touched the point to the treaty, and in a few quick scratches and swirls, his name was beside his brother's. Smiles, handshaking, and pleasantries continued after the signing, but Merlin only focused on the Once and Future King. He watched with pure joy and contentment as Arthur made peace with magic; his actions a testament to the king he was destined to be.

Times would be tough, and Tauren would soon return with a vengeance, but with their new allies, Merlin knew that the Once and Future King and Emrys would stand stronger than their enemies.

The Golden Age depended on it.

~Fin

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TO BE CONTINUED

AN: And that's the end of Of Enemies and Allies! I hope you enjoyed reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it! It's been a pleasure to be involved with the Merlin fanfiction community, and talk to all of you wonderful souls.

Thank you to all of my readers, followers, and reviewers, and as always, leave a review and let me know what you think ;)

But, GOOD NEWS—There will be a continuation of the series! This time, however, I'm going to try and write the majority of it ahead of time. My summer is going to be pretty busy, and I'd hate to make all of you wait a long time for each chapter. I have a rough outline already, so I'm off to a good start. I've even left a few hints in this chapter about some of the things that will be happening!

Also, to keep you occupied while you wait for the third installment, I've written a few one-shots and companions. Once I finish editing them, I will be posting them throughout the next few weeks—so keep an eye out!

Until next time,

Mirror