Disclaimer: IDOM

AN: And so it ends. After a grand total of 2 years and 2 weeks, this is it. To those who have been here since the beginning and to all those who have begun to read since, I cannot thank you enough for your companionship throughout the struggle and battle to finish this epic of a fic. Without you guys, this wouldn't have been possible.

I hope you guys like it. :)

"I've been thinking about it, and that poem, that guy that wrote it, he meant you're gold when you're a kid, like green. When you're a kid everything's new, dawn. It's just when you get used to everything that it's day. Like the way you dig sunsets, Pony. That's gold. Keep that way, it's a good way to be […] And don't be so bugged over being a greaser. You still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want. There's still lots of good in the world."

…

"Stay gold, Ponyboy, stay gold."

-Johnny, The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)

Epilogue: Stay Gold

The Camelot they left behind was not the same Camelot they returned to.

The group that had trudged back from the Valley had not only included the king and queen, warlock, and knight. No, even though most of Morgana's sorcerers decided to flee in order to escape the king's judgment, a rather large amount had remained to greet him and his Court Sorcerer. As it turned out, the ones who had stayed behind had been a part of an underground mercenary band that originated out far, far to the west. Their leader, the woman who had been so protective of Gwen, had said to Arthur and Merlin, "We might have fought only for Morgana's gold, but it was the queen who won our loyalty."

Arthur had been downright furious at Gwen for putting herself in harm's way, but Merlin had been able to tell that his pride far surpassed his anger.

Nearly fifty magicians had knelt, renounced their previous occupation, and offered their allegiance that day, and after a scan from the resident aura-reader—he could not be too cautious—they had been welcomed but given no promises. Prisoners, free men…no status had been placed upon them. The mercenaries had not cared so much about that: they had only expressed a desire to help where they could, and the king and queen had not denied them that, especially not after Merlin had seen that their intentions were pure.

And so it was that the group had checked for survivors and found themselves traveling toward Camelot. Kilgharrah had flown ahead to deliver the news that the battle was won, the witch was defeated, and that the king, Merlin Emrys, and their retinue were returning to the city. The dragon had returned with an escort that included Elyan, who had been beside himself with fear for his sister.

A lot of the conversations that needed to be had had to wait—Gwen, in particular, had her compassionate and intelligent eyes trained on Arthur and Merlin, as though attempting to glean their entire story from their most simple movements—and aside from the exchange of battle reports and inquires about health (because most of them looked awful and quite a few of their original retinue were missing), it had been a relatively silent trip back to the castle.

Or so Merlin had thought. He couldn't be sure: his mind had been off in another world for most of the trip back, after all.

He had remembered climbing the last hill, though. Seeing Camelot's towers, just over the rise in the hill, had been like seeing them for the first time. Sure, they might have been smoking and crumbling a bit, but they were beautiful.

Stepping into the city—he would never forget.

The streets had been cleared of wounded and dead, and now that the sun had since begun to set, torches lined the way. Though there were plenty mourning the loss of life and livelihood, those who were not needed in the infirmaries and who were not with lost loved ones gathered along the streets to watch them pass by to the castle. Druids with bloody lips and noses leaned upon the shoulders of spearmen, archers, and knights and vise versa. Village-folk intermingled with noblemen and sorcerers, and they shared their experience of the battle with each other, whether they had magic or not.

There was something in the air, something that cast an atmosphere of fulfillment that surpassed even the overwhelming gratitude of the crowd that awaited them. It was not so much the sound of their cheers as it was the sight of them standing together.

Even Arthur, who was well adapted to remaining stoic in overwhelming situations, had an expression of complete awe on his face that almost rivaled Merlin's. When he, his queen, and his knights Sir Gwaine and Elyan turned to Camelot's stunned and touched Court Sorcerer and beamed, those near enough to witness the exchange between them would tell others that it was like seeing the sunrise at dusk.

That sunrise was all the more brilliant when their smiles turned upon the people, sorcerers, and fighters.

Arthur would have to prepare for an announcement for them—about the battle, about Camelot's repair, about his sister, who was being smuggled into the city under the guise of a glamour, and about the thanks that the Pendragons owed to those who died or survived this day—but that would have to wait for the morrow. The funeral pyres would have to wait for the morrow just as well.

For today, they walked down the fire-lit streets and drank their fill of the celebratory and free-spirited atmosphere. Upon reaching the castle, all Merlin could recall was being ushered in by a fussy Gaius, getting thrown into a bath by some servants, and then allowing himself to be taken into the infirmary with an equally clean Arthur and Gwaine, who had been submitted to the same treatment as Merlin had been. Workers and healers bustled about them, leading them to beds to be cared for. Gwen, who had already been looked after by the mercenary sorceress Elaine, flitted between the three men.

When maids and Druids alike bowed and expressed well-wishes and thanks to both Arthur and Merlin, who was blushing at the attention and staring at all the non-magical people that had once done their utmost to avoid eye contact with him, the king had enough energy in him to tease, "I told you that they'd begin to trust you after you saved them from a few more invasions (1)."

"This was only one invasion. One insane invasion," Merlin murmured drowsily. He had pointedly ignored Gaius and Gwen's orders and decided to get up from his own bed, so that he could slump down beside his king. Arthur's bed had been pushed against a wall, so both men could easily sit side-by-side and lean against the stonework as they surveyed the room. It was strangely comfortable, and the warlock's eyes slid closed. "And I didn't save them alone."

Arthur's sleepy chuckling was the last thing he heard before falling into a deep, desperately needed sleep.

~…~

"Incoming!"

The person entering Merlin's chambers had just enough time to register the warning, back up, and slam the door shut before the strangely crafted bolt sank into the thick wood with a resounding thud. Merlin cursed, glaring at the contraption he was currently fiddling with.

"Arthur, I told you to listen to my door when it tells you to come back later!" he berated as he unstrapped the leather around his forearm and tossed the still-malfunctioning article onto his messy worktable. "I'm experimenting, and I don't want to hear you complain about the last time you decided to sit in when I was messing around with mag—"

He hadn't looked up in all the time that his visitor cautiously inched the door back open, but upon hearing a burst of snickering from someone who most certainly wasn't Arthur, Merlin cut off his tirade, flicked his gaze upward, and blinked in surprise, a grin broadening over his face.

"Kay!"

In the few months that had passed since the debacle with Morgana and her demon army, the young man had healed and recovered. It hadn't been easy—learning how to exist and get by with only one hand—but Kay was a stubborn ass and never once backed down from the challenge. A part of what drove him so hard was his hatred of being treated as a cripple for his disability, but he had to learn come to terms with the fact that he could no longer do things with the same efficiency he once did.

Even so, Kay seemed immensely happy. Since deemed healthy by Escetia's physician, he had become something of an ambassador between King Lot and Arthur's court. The arrangement was brilliant for the young man, who, naturally, had close ties to both kingdoms, and he had no regrets splitting his time between the two places.

"Is it safe to come in now?" Kay jested as he stepped lightly into the room.

Ignoring the knight's rhetorical question, the warlock leapt over a pile of books (but not before ducking under a few floating and half-completed projects that he'd sent up into the air in order to make room for other things), and he greeted his friend with a handshake. "When did you get back?" he asked enthusiastically.

"I've been back for a few hours. More than a few, if truth be told. Before coming to the citadel, I stopped at Iseldir's camp to see how Morgana was faring. She's quite well, if you're wondering. She was in one of her unresponsive and quiet moods, but the children seem to cheer her."

Merlin nodded, silently pleased. He, Arthur, and even Guinevere tried to visit her every so often. Some days she'd be receptive, and other days, not so much. It was on one of those "other days" that Iseldir had told them all to keep their distance for a while. Merlin, the cause of her more violent outburst that day, had spent many a sleepless night since wondering if her sanity would ever repair itself, but this news rekindled some hope. He'd noticed that Morgana was almost like her old self when the children were around. They truly brought out the best in her.

"Anyway," Kay continued, "Arthur sent me to drag you out of here so that you can actually socialize with more than just your dusty, old spell books and nasty potions." When Merlin scowled, Kay raised his hands in defense. "His words, not mine! He also gave me strict orders to ignore your door when I came to tell you that you're supping with us—'no arguments.'" The sudden impersonation of Arthur's voice made Merlin roll his eyes and snort. "You know," Kay added conversationally, "I think it has gotten more rude since I've last been here."

"That's because people continuously disrespect it," Merlin deadpanned.

Quirking a brow and smirking cockily, Kay asked, "And I suppose shooting a crossbow bolt into it wasn't disrespectful?"

"It's not a crossbow bolt; its—" Merlin's eyes suddenly widened, and shuffling inconspicuously backwards to hide the yet-to-be-completed project from sight, he fixated an innocent expression on his face. "My door likes it when I shoot bolts into it, Kay. What door doesn't?"

The door seemed to find his sarcasm offensive, and the butt of the dagger-bolt that had once been embedded in the wood nearly hit Merlin in the back of the head.

He was just about to tell the ungrateful thing off when Kay threw back his head and laughed. Slinging his handless arm around Merlin's shoulders, he said, "I've missed you, Merlin. I've been gone too long. Not long enough, I fear, to forget how to tell when you're hiding something." Inquisitive teal eyes shot toward the cluttered table. "I'm curious now."

Before Merlin could open his mouth to protest or even think to use magic, Kay had slinked toward the table, expertly maneuvering through the mess, and of course, being Kay, he immediately found what it was that the warlock was trying to hide.

"What is this?" the knight asked as the warlock came up from behind him.

Nice job, Merlin, the warlock chided himself. "It was supposed to be a surprise," he groaned. He picked up the tangle of leather and metal gently, and after seeing the blank and confused look on Kay's face, Merlin tried again, "It's for you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you!" Merlin exclaimed enthusiastically. "After you recovered from your injury and took up the sword to re-hone your skills, Arthur commented one day that it was like you—you were only half-alive on the field, and it was not because you were any less talented with a sword than you were before." Kay's face had become guarded, and Merlin was quick to add, "No, it was because you weren't fighting the way we know you love to: with a hidden dagger up your other sleeve. We decided to change that."

That seemed to stun the older man, and he spluttered, "Wha—What?"

"C'mere," Merlin said, gesturing for his left arm. Kay gave it over in a daze, and the warlock began strapping the thing to his forearm. "We designed it. Well, Arthur and Leon had quite a bit to do with making my more inventive ideas a reality. Amazing how much those two know about the mechanics of a crossbow, which was our model, in a sense. Their knowledge was incredibly helpful."

"…Merlin…"

"It took quite a bit of trial and error," Merlin proceeded to ramble, "but Elyan and Lancelot forged the moving bits and the dagger-bolts, and surprisingly, Gwaine knew a lot about working leather. He and Percival did that bit. They've all finished their part, obviously, but there are a few things not quite working on my end, as you can see from the dagger-bolt in the door. The spells—"

"…Merlin…"

"It's a bit complicated to put on now," he mumbled suddenly in mild frustration, readjusting a strap to fit Kay's arm, "but don't worry; I'm working on that. It should obey your command and attach itself snuggly and comfortably to you by the time I'm done with it. Should be near impossible to destroy too—"

"…Merlin…"

The warlock finally looked up and saw that Kay was staring at the engineered dagger-bolt scabbard on his lower arm and how the moving pieces fit together. The look on his face was one of complete and utter joy. "It's supposed to extend and retract a dagger?" he breathed, his right hand's fingers lightly brushing over the dark leather.

"That's the idea!" Merlin beamed. "Once I get it working properly, that is. The only problem is that I'm not sure I can figure out a way to recreate the fancy wrist movements you used to do, but I still have—oomph."

The force of Kay's embrace knocked the breath out of Merlin, and if the knight's eyes were glistening when he drew back, the warlock said not a word. Instead, he waited and watched as Kay, now as excited as a puppy, examined the device further.

"This is incredible!" he exclaimed, eyes alight with possibilities and strategies. "I can't—I can't believe you—"

"Shut up," Merlin scoffed. "Of course we did."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. You just have to promise me that you'll at least pretend to be surprised when we present the finished product." He rolled his eyes and began to remove the gift from Kay's arm once again. "The others will never forgive me if they know that I spoiled it."

The knight's cheeky smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. "Well, we wouldn't want that now, would we?"

"No," Merlin said as he carefully placed the weapon on the table. "We wouldn't want to keep Arthur waiting any longer either, especially when there's probably food—"

"MERLIN!"

"Speak of the devil!" Merlin said cheerily, leading Kay out of the door and meeting Arthur just outside his chambers. Of course, his chamber door decided to slam closed the moment both men were both clear of the threshold.

"Good riddance," the door spat. "Mangy magic man."

"Shut up," Merlin retorted, just as Arthur began to ask them what the hell had been taking them so long.

Somehow, the subject of his chamber door took precedence over their tardiness, and as they descended the stairs and emerged into the busy corridors—there was a conference with the surrounding kingdoms approaching, and the preparations were in full swing—the king goaded, "See, I knew it. I knew that you completely lost control of the enchanted talking door. It even insults you now."

"Hey! Everyone else gets new insults daily. 'Mangy magic man' is all it ever calls me," Merlin protested loudly. "It's an endearment!"

Arthur gave his friend an incredulous look and looked about ready to respond, but it was the handless man who prevented him from doing so. "Look at that."

Merlin and Arthur followed Kay's gaze toward the people that easily overheard their Court Sorcerer's strange statement and had trouble hiding their amusement as they continued on their way.

"In Uther's Camelot…the word "magic" would have sent people running and screaming," Kay mused. "Even when I came back—the first time, just after you two had lifted the ban and Arthur became king—they might have accepted your decree, but I had seen how uncomfortable some were. Others had been afraid and angry, and far too many would hesitate to meet your eyes, Merlin. Now look at them."

And so they did. They looked, and they saw.

Kay was right. Despite the signs of slow improvement the months before the battle of demons, there had always been a lingering cloud of discomfort that hung low over Camelot. Suspicions had fouled the freedom that sorcerers should have been able to experience, and the façade of "acceptance" had been thin in some places. Most people had been cautious, and gods knew that some of those people had also been jumpy and nervous around Merlin and any other magic-user that strolled by, no matter how accepting they were of Arthur's decree that magic was free.

Now?

The tales had spread like wildfire, and everyone who was anyone knew what had happened in Escetia and the Valley that day. Kay's part in it all, miraculously, remained a secret, but everything else was definitely not a secret. There was not a single person that did not accredit Merlin Emrys for the witch Morgana's ultimate defeat. The jeering had ceased, and even the most skeptical of Uther's regime had softened. Lords and townspeople alike sought him out now—to ask questions about magic, to ask for advice and assistance—and none of them shied away from him or his brethren.

Children of both peoples played together in the streets. Sorcerers were welcomed into Camelot's army with open arms, and all doors remained open. Neighbors turned to neighbors when in need, and those who were once enemies became friends. Those who had once feared their budding powers no longer subdued them, and some came from all over the kingdom to seek tutelage in the art of sorcery. Magic was everywhere, and it made the marketplace and castle more colorful and lively than ever.

"Things have really changed," Arthur said, pride coloring his tone.

And so they have, as it had been prophesized all along.

"It seems," Merlin added, his golden heart glowing with elation as he considered all that had happened since he first heard the prophecy, since meeting Arthur, since revealing his magic… "It seems that prejudice was truly the least of our worries."

~THE END~

(1) See chapter titled "Shattered Glass" for the initial mention of this quote

AN: I just started tearing up a little staring at that "THE END." Holy cow. It is finally complete. I can hardly believe it!

I once that said that once I finished this fic, I'd be done with Prophesized, but who knows? After a good long break, I might just miss Kay far too much and cave. Oneshots set within this universe are far more likely than anything else, though. ;)

Future projects may take some time, considering my new resolution to write a good chunk of stories before posting, but never fear! I plan to write a sequel to "The First of Me," "Only Friend," and perhaps even "Holly Leaves." A BigBang-like challenge is happening at The Heart of Camelot as well, so there's yet another one. I won't be gone long, I promise. :D

Again, thank you! A thousand times, thank you! *hugs*

Oz out.