Disclaimer: IDOM, or Doctor Who since there's a smudge of 'Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead' in here... ;) Brownies to those who find it! :D

Alright, so I had this whole speech-thing planned... and I can't remember half of it. *facepalm* But anyway, thank you to everyone for reviewing, both those logged in and guests. You guy's are amazing! :D I loved reading every single review and they were all so wonderful and encouraging to read! So thank you. :)

On the subject of the season finale... *shakes head at self* I am so terrified and the anticipation is horrible! I have never been good at handling anticipation (one reason I don't like roller coasters) and I just can't wait to see it. I'm so scared that they won't end it right but I'm trusting in Colin's interview that said all fans will be satisfied and happy with the ending... So yeah, very scared... ;D

Anyway, even if I'm not totally please with the ending (even though I'm sure I will be) I still have this... and again, thanks to everyone for reviewing. It feels so weird that this is the last part, geez, but I hope you like it! :D

Merlin covered his already dirtied face with his arm as best he could against the sudden gust of wind and dust stirred up by both dragons' large wings and watched as Kilgharrah and Aithusa disappeared in the dark clouds above. There was moisture now, in the breeze, and banners snapped loudly in the wind as it pushed through people's hair, tugging at their ripped and filthy clothing as they gathered their countless fallen. Men could be heard talking in the distance but they gave the group a wide berth.

Then, and with sudden fear and anticipation pricking in his stomach, the warlock gripped his dirtied staff in anxiety and turned to face his king; prepared for his rebuking words and accusing topaz eyes. But before his own cerulean eyes could even focus on his friend's grime covered face, time seemed to slow and he felt a sharp pain explode around his cheekbone and spread throughout the left side of his face. He heard Gwaine's objecting call and then before he could even register that it had been Arthur who had struck him, he was almost knocked backwards as two chainmailed arms wrapped around him in a tight but careful hug.

Rich, honey-blonde hair filled his vision, and the pain in his cheek lessened to a small throb as he felt a burst of love grow in his heart. His beryl colored eyes visibly softened before he closed them and hugged his brother tightly back. He felt something smooth and wet slide down his face and lessen the weight that had been hanging on his long black eyelashes.

Merlin's full pink lips brushed against Arthur's blood-stained ear as his chin buried itself in his friend's cold and chainmailed back. "Y-you're not mad at me?"

Arthur paused and his gloved hand shifted the hair on the back of his friend's neck as he answered in a watery voice. "Of course I'm mad at you, you idiot. Why do you think I slapped you?"

Merlin let out a small breath of choked laughter. "But you're not really...?" He could have ended that sentence with any synonym of 'angry' and the resulting answer still would have been the same.

"No... of course not."

The trembling that had first begun in Merlin's legs quickly traveled up his spine and spread throughout Merlin's whole body as his tears of relief and joy came in earnest. The warlock probably would have fallen to his knees had Arthur not been holding him tightly against him. And then Arthur hugged him even tighter as a soft sob shook Merlin's slim body. A tear slid out of his own blue eye, and he sniffed before pulling back, keeping his hand on the nape of his friend's neck and tilting his own head forward so that their foreheads were near touching before looking Merlin in the eye.

Moisture gathered there and made the honey-gold tresses show ever-more, like they'd always belonged there. And nestled in those cavernous, emotion-filled, tanzanite blue eyes was a conglomeration of intense love, severe gratefulness, and unadulterated hope. Arthur then rested both of his hands on Merlin's still trembling shoulders and squeezed as another tear leaked out of Merlin's tender blue eyes.

"Merlin," he began softly and with an affection that continued on throughout his speech, "thank you. I am so proud of you, my friend. Your stupid dragon was right; without you," here he looked Merlin pointedly in the eye to make sure the warlock knew that Arthur believed every word, "all would have been lost, and I know that I myself owe you my life many times over."

The young warlock seemed to shake with renewed force and a bright, watery smile lit his face before his expression tightened again and a small lit dimmed in his stormy blue eyes. "W-what about my magic? You h-hate magic..."

Arthur shook his blonde head slowly and pulled Merlin into another tight hug, tight enough so that Merlin knew that it wasn't being forced but mindful of whatever injuries he might have. "I don't care about your magic Merlin, really. There is no other man that I would trust with such a power, and there is certainly no other man I would wish such power for. If I have learned anything on this dreadful day, it is that magic can be a force for good and that you, Merlin, are the greatest force of good out of them all."

And every word was true; for Arthur knew that Merlin's kind and loving heart could never, and would never be influenced by Morgana's dark practices. And he knew that Merlin had one very large story to tell, but he also knew that whatever Merlin told him, nothing would sway him from the knowledge that Merlin was his most trusted friend for no one was perfect and everyone made their mistakes.

"You, single handedly, just healed hundreds of people; saved hundreds of lives, and stopped another war! Now," his voice grew soft and caring once more, "how could I still think magic to be only evil, old friend?"

Merlin trembled and let out another soft sob and buried his face in Arthur's armoured neck as he clutched his friend, feeling absolute elation before sniffling. Arthur squeezed his eyes tighter and a few of his own tears escaped his watering eyes as he hugged Merlin closer to him momentarily before pulling back.

He left his hand on his friend's shoulder and smiled with shining eyes. "Come on, Merlin, let's get you back to camp; you're exhausted."

Merlin wiped at his blue eyes and sniffed. "I won't argue with you there, Arthur. I feel like I could sleep for a decade."

A bright smile graced the king's face but then he frowned again in concern as Merlin grimaced and tightened his grip on his staff as he shifted his weight. He grabbed hold of Merlin' elbow as if to steady him and studied the man. "Are you seriously hurt?"

Merlin's multi-faceted indigo eyes softened at the clear worry in Arthur's tight voice. "I think I might have sprained my ankle and taken on a few bruised ribs when I fought Morgana -"

"Fought Morgana?"

"Well I'm hardly handy with a sword, am I?" he grinned cheekily. "What else would battle magic, but magic? And speaking of which..."

Merlin's eyes traveled down to his left hip as he remembered the sword that still loyally hung in his belts' grasp. He grasped Excalibur's thick pommel and pulled it out of his thin leather belt, and even though the sun was long since blocked by silver clouds, the sword still seemed to shine with an unearthly glow.

He handed the sword to Arthur, who nearly gasped at the magic he felt flowing through it for the first time - Merlin's magic. There was no doubt about it as a wave of fierce protectiveness and kindness seemed to rush through him, and Arthur wondered, gaping, how he'd never noticed before. He stared in awe for a moment longer before smiling softly and sliding it into his own frayed belt where it truly belonged.

Arthur gestured to Merlin as he spoke. "But why didn't you heal yourself when you did the rest of us?"

Merlin yawned shortly and his lids seemed to flutter as he rolled his cerulean eyes as if they too, were being pulled by the slowly building wind. "I don't know, Arthur. It's magic, and it's complicated."

Arthur laughed and clapped his friends arm. "Oh, I don't doubt that, my friend. Now, come on."

Arthur started to walk away, but before Merlin could so much as take one step towards his Once and Future King, he was bombarded and wrapped in a large, and this time rather painful hug, from Gwaine. After he gasped out that he couldn't breathe, the knight drew back and clapped his shoulder with sparkling eyes. Percival and Leon both gave him one-armed hugs, and all three of them thanked the warlock profusely for what he had done.

Out of his line of vision, Arthur pulled aside one of his knights and spoke to him about the arrangements for the dead. It was decided that they would build a giant funeral pyre with what little time they had left before the oncoming thunderstorm. After the arrangements were made, he sent the knight off and put him in charge before turning back to his friends.

Merlin could see Arthur smiling with pride behind the men and smiled widely back as they talked amongst themselves. Then Merlin stepped towards his king, and the Knights followed closely behind as they trekked the mile back to camp, recounting their tales of the battle in high-pitched, happy voices. They were really all just thankful to be alive.

During the expanse of the trek, the group talked, or rather, Leon, Percival, and Gwaine talked. Merlin and Arthur just walked side by side in silence and glanced between themselves and the rest of the group every so often with amusement and mirth lighting their respective blue eyes.

Merlin learned that it had been, in fact, Gwaine who had struck Mordred down after he'd attacked Arthur, and that before the druid died, he'd used his magic to drive his own sword into Gwaine's torso. He recalled the magic he'd sensed in the knight and was sound in the knowledge that Mordred could never again hurt any of his friends with his false friendship.

And then when they'd finally reached camp, food and water were all shoved in Merlin's direction as he wearily sat down. A small fire was built, and as the tangerine flames flickered in the wind, Merlin treated his ankle as best he could with the supplies he'd brought. Only then did he eat and only when, after much protesting, the others ate too, and it was then that the questions were asked.

Merlin smiled and answered their questions in full, giving a short, abridged version of his magic and then going more into depth about the battle and what he'd know of it beforehand. The knights responded to his story with respectful awe and reacted exactly how they were expected to when they learned of not only Mordred's destiny, but of the intense pressure Merlin was under when he faced it all alone - with cringes and sad but sometimes furious faces.

Arthur was, by far, the most affected by Merlin's story. He realized he had so much to make up for, and he promised himself to never let Merlin out of his sight and certainly to never let him go through anything alone ever again.

But even as Merlin narrated his account and as Arthur was both rocked by intense shock and elevated with severe pride, he could never find it within himself to be angry at his servant because maybe, just maybe, somewhere deep inside himself... he already knew. Maybe it was because his heart had worked it out years ago and Destiny had never let the knowledge reach his mind, waiting for this specific moment in time for Merlin's secret to be revealed.

He didn't know, but when a sentry arrived an hour later, he didn't want the tale to stop. And then, when he stood respectfully next to his younger brother and most trusted knights a few minutes after that in front of the massive funeral pyre, all he could think about was how he could make up for Merlin's loyalty and dedication as the smell of a hot fire and burning flesh was carried away by the biting wind.

A few hours after that, and when everyone was tucked safely into their dark and woven tents, the silvery-black sky broke open like a ripped seam. Thunder shook the very earth and white lightening stuck the earth and lit the sky as a veil of dark rain poured down slantways and cleared the battlefield of any lingering scarlet or crimson. In weeks to come, no one would be able to guess that a great and fateful battle had taken place there when the tall wheatgrass that had previously occupied the battleground grew healthy and strong once more. They would only know of it from the stories.

Arthur watched over Merlin that night as he slept peacefully through it all. The young man even had a small smile on his blithe face as he dreamed, and Arthur knew that, at long last, a great and burdensome weight had been lifted off his friend's shoulders at that, at long last, Merlin was at peace.

After trying and then giving up on sleep himself, the restless king sat at the writing desk and started composing a short letter to Guinevere about what had transpired that day, careful not to directly state 'Merlin has magic' but word it so that Gaius would understand once she'd shared it with him as Arthur was sure the queen would.

And then, as the colorful daylight broke beautifully on the mountainous horizon and a heavy and thick grey fog settled on the land from the storm the night before, and Merlin still, didn't stir once, Arthur sent his letter to off to Camelot with a trusted messenger, who'd been told not to tell anyone what had happened but to deliver the message to the queen, wait for a reply, and then ride immediately back.

He expressed his concern about Merlin's not waking to the knights when they came to check on the warlock, and they assured him, with proud and knowing, yet cautiously worried eyes, that the dragon had said that he'd be tired and that he was probably just sleeping it off. Arthur decided to wait for him to wake to his own before they traveled back to Camelot. No one objected, glad for the rest.

The knights proved to be right as, just as the sun began to dip down below the horizon in a splash of lavender and fuchsia, Merlin woke and slowly stretched his limbs with a loud yawn before standing. He was immediately taken aback by an immediate hug from Arthur and then again by another relieved hug from an equally worried Gwaine. Merlin himself smiled broadly and laughed when he found out that he'd slept throughout the day but was deeply touched by their concern.

And then, as Arthur sat and laughed around a roaring campfire with Merlin and his knights, eating a hearty dinner of stew - which Merlin practically inhaled - the messenger returned with a quickly written, and yet carefully worded, letter from Gwen.

In short, it said that word was already spreading through the kingdom like wildfire about the truce and that the people couldn't be more pleased. Then, when he reached a section of the note that was still clearly Guinevere's flowing cursive but definitely not her own words, he showed the manuscript to Merlin who nearly choked on a piece of beef as he fisted a slender hand and put it to his mouth to stifle his laughter as his eyes crinkled with mirth. He less than delicately swallowed and assured Arthur that he was fine and that, yes, it had definitely been Gaius who'd told her to write that, and that, yes, everything was alright. Arthur had just rolled his topaz eyes but didn't press; he trusted him.

That night, everyone slept soundly, snug in their beds and the next day when morning broke purplish-blue on the horizon, they all set off for Camelot. The journey itself through the snaking woods was uneventful and they had to camp one more night in the thickly forested countryside before reaching Camelot's white-stoned gates early the next afternoon.

The entourage was met by cheering, citizens waving red and yellow flags with bright smiles on their faces, for, while they inevitably mourned those fallen in battle, they celebrated those who had been returned to them.

It seemed like too long before they rode into the courtyard and Arthur spotted his cherished wife. He remembered how close he'd been to never seeing her again, and felt another burst of gratefulness towards his brother and smiled even wider as his soft blue eyes watered slightly. And then when he finally pulled his brown horse to a stop a few feet from the steps, he jumped off the leather saddle and ignored the clapping council members on the stairs above, meeting his running wife halfway and pulling her into a tight and tear-filled embrace as her feet left the cobblestone ground.

"I was so worried!" she breathed with relief right before kissing him passionately. Then she pulled back, and her soft chocolate brown eyes met Arthur's light blue ones and they both, in unison and as if struck by a sudden remembrance of why Arthur was alive, looked to their right just as Merlin pulled back from a tear-filled reunion with his guardian.

And then suddenly, a smiling and half-crying Guinevere pulled away from Arthur's loving embrace as her deep brown hair bounced and leapt into Merlin's, not caring in the least what people would think of a queen hugging a servant. But then again, he wasn't just any servant. Not to them anyways.

Merlin smiled wider than ever before, and his topaz eyes danced with tender affection as he hugged his oldest friend tightly against him as a small tear escaped his now-closed eye. He knew from the letter that she knew, and he knew from the embrace that she didn't care…

Gaius walked to Arthur and quickly embraced him with proud, laughing grey eyes, and then when they pulled back with mutual smiles the size of Camelot herself, they started laughing anew when the queen pulled back and began covering Merlin's blithe face with chaste kisses as she held it between her lithe hands.

"She knows," Arthur guessed with a compassionate smile, "about what he really did?"

Gaius folded his hands in front of him and his blue-grey eyes softened as he nodded. "She knows that he saved you all and that he has magic; you're cryptic letter peaked her curiosity and then I had to tell her everything. But," he said as he looked Arthur full in the face with a mischievous smile and pointed eyebrow, "we still do not yet know what truly happened."

Arthur felt a new surge of love for his wife and how she didn't seem to care in the least about Merlin's magic and how she treated him the exact same - which is what Arthur knew Merlin had feared the most - and instead only cared that he was alive and well.

Arthur looked at the man who had always been a second father to him with something like exasperation flitting about in his joy filled ocean-blue eyes. "It's a long story."

The physician laughed and seemed to take a double meaning to the phrase as he beamed. To Arthur, it seemed as if the physician was a good decade or two younger, and Arthur knew that Gaius, too, had carried the weight of Merlin's destiny on his own shoulders. Arthur's aquamarine eyes filled with the most heartfelt respect, and he smiled at the still-laughing physician once more.

A few hours later, after Arthur had spoken with the council and abbreviated the terms of the truce and the treaty that was to be made, he still hadn't revealed Merlin's magic to them - even though he was sure that the hundreds of men that had returned from the battle would already be spreading the story throughout the city -, and after Gaius had treated Merlin's own injuries and wrapped his ribs, the Privy Council met in the royal chambers and ate whilst Merlin told his epic story once more, this time in greater detail.

Hearts were warmed with happy, sometimes giddy, laughter that night as they heard the full story for the first time, and still, Arthur, nor anyone else it seemed, could feel it in their hearts to be mad at the imperfect warlock at anything; not even when they heard his largest mistakes. And so instead of the shouting matches and defensive words that Merlin had always imagined when his magic – his failures -were revealed, they cried together; Arthur, Guinevere, Merlin, Gaius, and even the knights shed a few warranted tears.

They were already well into the night and well through several pitchers of red wine before they even started to speak of the battle on the plains of Camlann. It started with when Merlin had been given a vision on their way to Ismere of Arthur falling by Mordred's hand and then when he had been later alone with the Diamar and how she told Arthur that he, himself, would be his own bane, or destruction. The audience cringed at that story alone.

Then it slowly built up to when he had, unknowingly, first found Alator's abandoned camp and when, later, Finna had found him.

He spoke of her story and how she'd come to help him after he'd been shot with an arrow by Morgana's pursuing men and how she was meant to help him fulfill his destiny by delivering an important message before telling him not to trust the druid boy. She had then given her life to save Merlin's in that god-forsaken tower and then Merlin spoke of how he'd called Kilgharrah with his remaining strength and how the dragon had saved and healed him of his injury - in which Guinevere insisted at seeing the wound to make sure he was alright, and when Merlin did remove his brown jacket and lifted his red tunic, they were all amazed to find no scar, but didn't once question the truth of his story.

Then came how Morgana had openly declared war on Camelot and the full truth about Mordred and the extent of his betrayal after Arthur had killed the woman he loved and how he, out of spite, had turned to Morgana in anger and had given away Merlin's true identity as Emrys as accommodation of her broken trust in him.

And consequently, and inevitably, came the tale of the great battle upon the plains of Camlann itself. Leon, Percival, and Gwaine all took turns telling their personal rendition of the conflict but stopped at the point of when they'd been struck down. Arthur then, spoke of his own experience upon the battlefield and the terror and betrayal he'd felt when Mordred's sword had pierced his armor and when he'd fallen to his knees as Merlin had seen in the vision.

Merlin felt anxiety flutter like butterflies in his stomach when it came his turn, but with a squeeze of his hand from a tear-filled Guinevere and slow but encouraging nod from both Gaius and Arthur, and even the way the knights seemed to lean in ever so slightly in anticipation, gave him strength and he carefully told them what had, from his point of view, taken place that calamitous day.

He took a drink of his water - because he'd stopped drinking the wine once his mind had started to fog - and began with how he'd woken up only to be knocked out once more by the pommel of Arthur's sword. Merlin explained how that had been a self-fulfilling prophecy in itself and how, even though Arthur's intentions were honorable, he thereby became his own bane by unknowingly getting rid of his protector.

The warlock began again with how he'd first woken up afterwards and used the aging spell to don the identity of Emrys, "or Dragoon the Great," Merlin joked, bringing small smiles to their faces, and then how he'd called Kilgharrah and fought the Saxon's with his magic, searching for Arthur, and how he'd, inescapably, came to Morgana's attention. The listeners winced. He reminisced in great detail the epic magical battle they'd fought – several gasps were heard - and the sounds that could be heard from their respective dragon's battling above them and the intense fear he'd felt throughout it all.

He spoke of the injuries he'd sustained and the injuries he'd dealt to Morgana, namely the ball of fire he'd thrown at her that had taken her down before Merlin had refocused his attentions on finding Arthur and searched the plains far and wide. He told them how he never did - getting depressed sighs from the knights and Gaius and a soft sob from Guinevere - and how the battle slowly died around him as he watched men fall on both sides, and the pain he felt when even the battling dragon's fell. He painted a picture of the carnage and destruction they'd never seen with his words.

And then, as a tear fell down his porcelain face and slid down his high cheekbone, he took a deep breath and continued onto how he'd been reunited with Morgana and how she'd -how he'd - succumbed to fate and how he'd finally become her doom, as the Calyx said he would as he finished her off with Excalibur. He spoke of his heartbreak at finding Arthur dying as a pool of blood spread beneath him and the conversation they'd had.

Here, he stumbled several time in his story and, inevitably, more tears fell in earnest as his hands trembled. His words were barely identifiable between his hitching breath, and Gwen's own body shook with sobs, and they squeezed each other's hands for courage until they turned white.

The warlock continued with a less-than-steady voice about the smallest and last shred of hope he'd had left when he'd asked Kilgharrah how to heal Arthur and how even that had been taken away from him in the end, leaving him feeling hollow.

Through his words, the listeners felt his every pain, his desperation, and his hopelessness at the Great Dragon's words and how, in the end, when all he wanted was for it to end, he gathered his magic within himself and drew it from the very air until it became painful and how he directed it towards his one last thought; heal.

Here, the knights picked up about what happened and what they'd felt through the healing and the bubble of protectiveness and compassion that they'd felt encased in. Arthur and Gwaine spoke of the shock and surprise they'd felt when they'd awoken - fully healed from their respective fatal injuries - and found none one other than Merlin standing in front of the supposedly dead Great Dragon with his arms spread, head facing the blood-stained sky, and eyes burning the color of magic itself as the very air around him glowed the same, though transparent, color.

They told them - Gwen and Gaius - about how Merlin had healed everyone, including the dragons, before focusing his magic on the skies themselves and clearing them of the staining crimson and how even when he thought all seemed lost, Merlin had been the one to save them all, again.

Merlin, ever modest, blushed furiously as they spoke with reverence of his feat and how, when soldiers of Camelot and the Saxon's began a verbal fight once more, Merlin, assisted by Kilgharrah, broke it up and of they spoke of the extraordinary and heart-stopping speech Merlin gave that eventually led to Kenneth McAlwin's mutual wish to end the fighting.

They explained when had then transpired between Merlin and the dragon and the secret knowledge that Kilgharrah had held about Merlin's exceptional powers – his love and magic - and the reasons for it before telling them how he'd spoken briefly with Arthur and the affection Kilgharrah had had throughout the whole affair and then how he'd, rather dramatically, flown away with Aithusa into the dark clouds.

Gwaine, grinning wickedly, paraphrased what Arthur did once Kilgharrah had flown away and was slapped on the arm by his still-watery eyed wife.

Merlin grinned broadly and laughed, feeling a natural high through his cleansing tears that had nothing to do with the wine when he and Arthur summarized the conversation they'd had together and Arthur's acceptance of him and his magic, and as the final parts of the story were put together as if Destiny had finished her great puzzle, the first tresses of pinkish-blue daylight filtered in through the open window and a soft breeze caressed the tear-tracks on their faces and pulled on their weighty eyelids.

Slowly the group broke up until only Merlin, Guinevere, Arthur, and Gaius were in the royal chambers and Gaius stood as Merlin did and wrapped his ward in a tight hug, mindful though, of his ribs.

"I am so proud of you, Merlin," he said slowly.

Then Guinevere encased Merlin in her own tearful hug and cried softly on his shoulder as he did the same on hers. "We all are," she said, agreeing to Gaius' statement.

They finally broke apart and Arthur once again hugged the trembling warlock before pulling back and ruffling his raven-black hair. "Yes," he agreed, smiling proudly, "we are."

Merlin let out a shaky breath of laughter and swore his heart had never felt lighter. "Thank you, all of you."

It was that night that the two sides had truly became one coin.

In the months that followed, a treaty was indeed drawn up with the Saxon's kingdom that ensured peace and their delegate, Kenneth McAlwin to their surprise, even became their leader through popular vote. Apparently, he was well-liked throughout his kingdom and was the most logical choice for their king, even if he wasn't of noble birth.

And, even more importantly to Arthur, magic and the dragons were slowly returned to the kingdom as the druids came and went freely and without fear and even more hidden dragon eggs were found and hatched. Camelot's citizens, most of whom already knew of Merlin's selfless and caring heart, were slowly told the full truth of what happened on the plains of Camlann and welcomed their warlock with open and, largely, loving arms.

Of course, there was opposition to the returning of magic, but those that didn't welcome the change either left or were slowly brought around to it as they witnessed Merlin's generous and random acts of kindness.

And it was on such acts of selflessness, compassion, and love, as well as a few acts of protectiveness and defense that Albion itself was slowly constructed; an accomplishment that many had thought forever impossible On the conjoined and selfless efforts of Strength, of Courage, of Wisdom, of Love, of Loyalty, of Glory, and of course, of Magic, they built a kingdom that would never fall.

And of course, Merlin and Arthur's story was told throughout the ages and inevitably, details went awry and small technicalities were stretched and bended and exaggerated on, but the essence and lessons of the tale stayed the same.

That heart of the story being that no matter how desperate and bleak the situation seems, there is always hope; through love, and friendship everything works out, and the admonition being that even the most seemingly ordinary person can save a life and change the world and that sometimes… not everyone dies, because the story of Merlin's unforgettable feat always ended the same;

That the prophets did not lie and that Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King of Camelot and now-ruler of Albion, met his end on the cold plains of Camlann that ruinous and blood-stained day as the trumpets sounded, and that his best friend - his brother - Merlin Emrys, the then-last of the Dragonlords, beloved protector of Camelot and of her Once and Future King, and the first Court Warlock of Camelot in a great many years, saved him.

*bites knuckle, holds breath* Did you like Part 3? I think I might have cried while I wrote it (again, I'm a sob). But did you cry? *evil grin* But anyway, I obviously (and probably rather selfishly) really hope that it ends like this. I'm really proud of myself for it and it's definitely my favorite out of my stories right now. Again, absolutely flattered by everyone who said they hope it ends like this, and I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens. Grr, there's that dreaded anticipation again... ;P

Oh, and, if you didn't understand the 'then-last Dragonlord' bit, I just wrote it meaning that he's not the Last Dragonlord anymore. Hm... perhaps Freya came back...? ;) Sorry, guilty pleasure... I will forever ship Freylin! :)

I can't think of anything else to say... But anyway, please review! I humbly await to hear (well, read) what you thought of it!