Spoiler alert for end of season 5. Do not read if you have not seen or read about season 5!

A gentle breeze grazed the treetops scattered across the rolling hills, breathing life into the still landscape. The sun with its warm rays revealed a solitary man standing next to a tree, his hand resting on the bark. He lifted his eyes to the pleasant sky, breathed in the fresh air, and suffered physical hurt no longer, but a heavy curtain of sadness still hung about him. As another breeze blew his hair away from his face, he espied a figure moving on the horizon. He knew this man.

This new man strode along the grassy plain with ease, confident of where he was heading. In contrast to the first man, this second man was burden free and was enjoying the sunshine and open sky. His calm was shattered, however, when he noticed a third man sitting up from where he had lain prone on the ground.

"Arthur!" he cried to the man on the ground.

King Arthur, for it was indeed he, looked for the person calling his name and met the eyes of one he thought he would never see again.

"Lancelot?" he said uncertainly. He rose to his feet to face the knight as emotions flashed across his visage. Confusion as to where he was, surprise at seeing someone he thought long gone, joy at meeting an old friend, anger and pain at the friend's betrayal.

Lancelot was watching these thoughts play out on Arthur's expression, and he understood what must be going on in the king's mind.

"Arthur," he said again. "If you are here, then great grief must have befallen Camelot."

"Where am I?" Arthur asked.

"We are in Avalon, our final resting place."

"Avalon? Then Merlin and I, we must have made it after all! Where is that fool anyway?" Arthur turned in all directions, seeking out his manservant.

"Arthur," Lancelot attempted to say it as gently as possible. "You and Merlin did not make it to Avalon before you passed. This is our final resting place, and we are here because we have died in the world."

"But Avalon is said to have healing properties," Arthur protested. "If we are here, we may yet live."

"It does have healing properties. But I have found that it is not physical healing and a return to the living this island grants. Rather it is a new wholeness to the soul."

"What in the world are you talking about?" Arthur asked with a tinge of annoyance which Lancelot found to be familiar.

"What I mean is, I have not seen anyone restored to the land of the living, but I have witnessed many find their peace here."

"Well here's something that might give me some peace," Arthur turned to Lancelot. "You were noble in all ways but one. Why did you do it, Lancelot?"

Lancelot sighed.

"In my heart, I have always loved Guinevere. But I have not acted on those feelings, not since I learned of the love between the two of you. You made her happy, and I would never come between you."

"Are you denying it even now?" His tone rose in fury.

"Yes, I am! That was Morgana's doing. She summoned my soul and had command over my mind and my actions. It was only Merlin who recognized something was wrong and finally set me free once again."

"It was not you, then," Arthur glanced at Lancelot. "It was not you who betrayed my trust and caused Guinevere to break my heart."

"No. I would never betray you," Lancelot stated, holding his gaze steadfast.

Arthur thought for a bit, then shrugged and smiled.

"I believe you, Lancelot. You were always a man of your word," he said, extending his hand to Lancelot in friendship. Lancelot grasped it in gratitude.

"Now I understand what you mean about men finding peace here," Arthur continued. "We have reforged our bond of trust."

"For that I am very thankful. I cannot begin to understand how deeply the seeming betrayal would have wounded you."

"So it was Merlin who freed you?" Arthur questioned. "Did you know that he was actually a sorcerer? Merlin, of all people!"

"Aye, I discovered—"

The crack of a twig led both men to turn instinctively in the direction of the sound. Their eyes widened in surprise as the first man, who had watched the meeting from afar, finally approached. Lancelot recovered first.

"Gwaine, my friend," he stepped forward as if to embrace the man, but Gwaine forestalled him.

"Lancelot," he greeted shortly. "Arthur."

Lancelot and Arthur exchanged a glance. Where was their lighthearted friend with endless chatter and a ready smile? Who was this new man with shoulders weighed in defeat and shame?

"Gwaine," Arthur began at last. "What is the matter?"

"I have betrayed you," he answered, unable to meet Arthur's eyes. "It was I who led you to your death."

"How can that be? I remember clearly it was not you who dealt the mortal blow."

"No, but it was I who told the lady Morgana where you and Merlin were to be found."

Arthur and Lancelot stared at Gwaine in disbelief. That was news they could not have imagined. Never would they have thought Sir Gwaine a traitor to his king. Both men reached for their swords before they realized they were no longer armed.

Arthur walked up to Gwaine and grasped his shirt with his fist menacingly. Gwaine did little to oppose him.

"Today I have been told many truths," Arthur ground out between his teeth, "And this is the most devastating of all."

"Wait," Lancelot placed a placating hand on Arthur's arm. "Gwaine, explain yourself."

So Gwaine did, beginning with the plan hatched between him and Sir Percival, to the skirmish, to the torture. He stopped, unable to continue. Silence reigned over the three men. Then Arthur gave a short bark of laughter. He grinned at Gwaine and pulled him into an embrace, which Gwaine was too surprised to return.

"But…" he mumbled, for once at a loss for words.

"Gwaine," Arthur explained. "You cannot believe what a relief this gives me. I thought you a traitor, but you were a noble friend to the end."

"But I gave in and betrayed my principles, betrayed you," Gwaine was unconvinced.

"You did no such thing," Arthur said, his arm still around the knight's shoulders. "Against some things we are powerless. It is not worth it to continually blame ourselves."

"If only I held on for a little longer," Gwaine reasoned. "You could have made it to Avalon."

Arthur shook his head. "My time had come. Do not take this burden upon yourself. Have you not heard? 'Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.' And you have truly done so, my friend."

Lancelot also laid his hand on Gwaine's shoulder. He noticed life coming back into his friend's eyes. Life, hope, and a mischievous glint. Gwaine heaved a sigh of relief as a heavy load seemed to melt away.

"Your words have done me much good, Arthur," Gwaine said. "This is indeed a place of healing as you said, Lancelot."

Lancelot smiled in reply.

"Right," Arthur said briskly, removing his arm from his knight's shoulder, apparently ready for the emotional moment to be over. "Let us find shelter for tonight."

As the three walked shoulder to shoulder towards the western horizon, Arthur turned to Lancelot.

"I envy you, Lancelot."

"Why?" Lancelot was puzzled.

"Two reasons. One, you knew Merlin for who he really was. He did not have to hide part of himself when he was with you."

"Merlin kept his magic from you because he felt he had to," Lancelot responded.

"Perhaps," Arthur mused.

"What is the second reason?" Lancelot probed.

"That you had a few years to enjoy this paradise alone, while now we have to spend an eternity here with Gwaine."

Laughter rang out on the isle of Avalon as the sun set, casting three shadows of three brothers in arms, standing ready against the day of Albion's greatest need.