Epilogue

Arthur ruled Camelot for many long years. His contemporaries remembered him as the Golden King. Throughout the years, through conquest and council, Arthur Pendragon united the lands of Albion into one kingdom, with Camelot at its head. Ironically, the last to fall in line was Lothian in the far north, from where his consort had once pretended to claim royal lineage.

But no man lives forever. As time passed, Arthur's face became lined, his hair gray, his grip weak around his sword hilt. Merlin let himself age with Arthur, though he could feel how his magic wanted to keep him young. They grew old together. They united Albion together. They fostered an age of expansion, of discovery, of innovation, and of peace.

And then Arthur was gone.

As soon as King Arthur died, Merlin vanished. He accompanied Arthur's closest knights and counselors to deliver Arthur's body and sword to Avalon, and then he disappeared. Stories were told of how he crossed into the realm of the faerie folk. Others claimed he was living life backwards and was now a young man, walking among them in Albion, unknown to those who used to be his dearest friends. And some even claimed that, in his old age, he had been bested by another magic user and was either dead or locked away for eternity.

Whatever had happened to Merlin, he was gone from courtly life in Albion. He attended no meetings, no parties, no councils, no battles, nothing. With Arthur gone, his time meddling in the affairs of Camelot were over.

Soon after Arthur's death, the nobility began to argue over who deserved to reign in his place. He had nephews, nieces, and cousins, as well as unrelated nobility, knights, and freemen who had helped him build Albion up, all claiming to be the rightful next heir to the throne.

Camelot dissolved into civil war.

Merlin remembered that the great dragon Kilgharrah had said that Arthur would return when Camelot's need was greatest. A civil war seemed bad, but he knew it was too soon for this to be what would bring Arthur back. For if he returned and ruled for another fifty years, this same problem might arise the next time he died as well. So Merlin watched from the shadows as battles broke out all over the kingdom. He saved innocent bystanders and worked as a doctor healing injured soldiers from time to time, but otherwise he let history play out on its own.

Tintagel, the place of Arthur's birth, was all but destroyed. Merlin lived in the remaining, damaged tower of the castle for awhile. He felt the magic from years past that had brought Arthur into this world. He imagined what Arthur would've been like had his mother lived. He considered how much of who Arthur became was due to the magic of his birth and how much was what he'd experienced as Uther's son.

And he waited.

The day Camelot burned, Merlin used the chaos to break into the castle, down the stairs, to the keep deep under the stones of the ground floor. He stole the golden dragon pendant he'd worn as a necklace while pretending to be Prince Balinor from a stash of jewelry, and one of Arthur's finer cloaks that had been put into storage after the king's death. Then he found the grand boxes that held the crowns of old kings and queens. Arthur's crown was too bulky to take with him, too noticeable as well. Merlin's own, simpler crown, the crown of a Royal Consort, really just an intricate band, seemed too rich as well. Or perhaps Merlin simply knew, as soon as he saw the first break in Camelot's defensive walls, that there was only one thing inside that he really wanted to take.

He left amid fire and smoke with the pendant in his pocket, the cloak wrapped up and stuffed in his satchel, and Arthur's crown prince circlet held against his chest like the most precious of treasures.

And it was. Merlin's life as Arthur's officially recognized spouse began the night Arthur first placed that circlet on his head. It had belonged to both of them at one time or another. If Merlin was going to keep a crown, it wouldn't be for power or recognition, it would be for sentimentality and remembrance.

After that, Merlin lived in a cave for a few years. He hunted, gathered, and grew his own food. He built his own simple tools and carved figurines to sell for money to buy what he could not make himself. It was a simple life. And while Merlin mourned the loss of his home, it was the life he needed. He needed time away from conflicts and drama and Camelot in order to learn how to be by himself, how to be himself, after losing Arthur, the other half of his coin, the man he had spent a lifetime loving.

And he waited.

A new king took power. Albion's name changed, slowly, over time, from generation to generation. New kingdoms were formed, which became countries with their own various types of government. They fought, united, broke apart. Ealdor grew, changed names, became an important city. It was destroyed in a war and rebuilt. Again. Again. Arthur and Merlin, Camelot and the Knights of the Round Table, faded into myth and legend.

Merlin began to travel, keeping up with the changes in the land and the people. He even left Albion to see the rest of the world and learned how truly enormous it was. He learned new languages, new ways to practice magic, new ways to govern and to fight back. He studied the myths of the world. He followed the lives of great men and women.

It became apparent that the easiest way to transport the circlet was to wear it, so Merlin cast a spell on it. When he looked at it, he saw the circlet. When others looked at it, they saw whatever hat was in style at the time in their region or country. It had appeared as a bowler, a porkpie, a kepi, a flat cap, a montera, a keffiyeh, a Dhaka topi, a fez, a dogon hat, a chullo, a slouch hat, and more as Merlin moved around the globe and discovered new places and people. He never let anyone touch it, and no one ever learned what it really was.

And he waited.

Sometimes, a person would come along that Merlin thought might be Arthur. There was a woman in Egypt, a man in Macedonia, a woman in China, and then another, a man, in China from Mongolia, and others throughout time. They were people who had vision, who united disparate groups into working kingdoms or empires. They were leaders who inspired loyalty, kept promises, and usually had one great love in their life. And each time, Merlin saw that loved one die, followed shortly after by the person who might have been Arthur, most usually at a young age.

But none of them were Arthur. Merlin approached each of them and none of them knew him. He knew, somehow, that Arthur would always recognize Merlin. No matter how long it had been nor where they were. Merlin and Arthur would recognize each other even in death, even blind and deaf. So Merlin watched these great leaders burn fiercely in life, only to be snuffed out too soon, before they had finished accomplishing their goals.

And he waited.

And he wore Arthur's circlet everywhere he went.

And when Arthur finally reappeared in this world, Merlin planned on returning the favor Arthur bestowed upon him so long ago. He would place the circlet on Arthur's head and name Arthur king once more. This time, Arthur would unite not only Albion, but the world. Until then, the circlet remained on Merlin's head or in Merlin's bag, kept safe by his magic and his love.

Long Live the King.