Merlin 1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hi, this is Elise. First, um…thanks for reading my story. I know it's not great, but I hope you like it at least. This is my first fanfic ever, so I decided to stick to a simple plot; just a basic alternate ending I wanted to play with. I've got tons of ideas for fics I want to write in the future, but for now, I'm going to stick to simple stuff so I can improve my writing. This is a one-shot, but there is a slim possibility I may write something to follow it up, as I really like the concept I'm working with. As I've never written fanfiction before, I would really appreciate feedback. If you notice anything at all that needs fixing, critiquing, anything, please leave a review. Just…be gentle. I'm new. Okay, enjoy the story!**

A Sacrifice and an Exchange

"I want to say...something I've never said to you before." Arthur gazed into the young warlock's old eyes, letting the sound of the wind in the trees and Merlin's labored breathing wash over him. "Thank you."

Merlin watched helplessly as his best friend slipped away in his arms. "Arthur, no. Arthur!" His body convulsed in a gut wrenching sob; Arthur couldn't be gone, not now, not when they were so close to the lake. There had to be something he could do. The warlock drew in a shaky breath, raised his face to the heavens, and gave a desperate cry. "O drakon! E male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!"

He heard a thunderous sound off in the distance as a great dark figure approached. Kilgarrah landed as gracefully as he could on the grass beside Merlin and beheld the scene before him. He had always known this moment would come to pass, but he had hoped he would not live to see it. The Great Dragon pitied the fair king lying sprawled across the ground, but his very soul ached for the dark haired boy beside him, whose eyes were red and swollen and face was streaked with tears. The boy had aged beyond his years since the day he wandered into the dragon's cave, and he had seen more sorrow and pain than any man was meant to see. Kilgarrah wished there was someone, anyone else there to tell Merlin what he didn't want to hear, or better yet that Merlin didn't have to hear it at all. Before the dragon could speak, however, Merlin raised his voice in a question that doubled as a desperate plea.

"Is he dead?" Merlin asked.

The dragon sighed. "Arthur is still with us, but-" Before he had the chance to say not for long, Merlin interrupted with a firm request.

"Then I have one last favor to ask."

Merlin clutched his king tightly as they soared fluidly through the sky. He was not afraid of falling, though. There were far greater things to fear. He trusted Kilgarrah and believed that Arthur was not gone yet, but he knew the king wouldn't hold on for much longer. Merlin could feel the blood fighting its way through Arthur's veins, and he swore that as long as there was a pulse, he would not give up. Time and again, Merlin had proven that he would do anything for Arthur, no matter the cost. The years he had spent with Arthur had been the most dangerous years of his life, bringing him to the brink of death more times than he could count. He had been poisoned, shot, stabbed, cursed, tortured, targeted, hunted, and attacked in all manners because of his dedication to the king, and he never regretted a moment of it. Watching the crystal water of the lake of Avalon approach far below, Merlin wracked his brain for a way to save Arthur. When the time the Great Dragon landed on the shore of the lake, Merlin had no idea what to do. His search for a solution was halted by Kilgarrah's voice.

"Merlin," he said heavily, "there is nothing you can do."

Merlin turned to face him, his eyes circled by dark rings of exhaustion and grief. "I've failed?" he asked in a small voice.

"No, young warlock, for all you have dreamt of building has come to pass. Though no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny, some lives have been foretold, Merlin. Arthur is not just a King; he is the Once and Future King. Take heart, for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again."

"I don't believe this," Merlin said, shaking his head and wiping the tears from his face. "For years you've told me that Arthur is my destiny. I've nearly died for him countless times. I've-I've _murdered_ for him, because you told me it was my destiny. And now you say that my destiny is to stand and watch him die? No. I won't accept that." He turned and knelt by Arthur's side.

The dragon had dreaded this moment, but he knew that Merlin needed to be told. "Merlin, this day has been foreseen for ages. I always thought I would be dead when the time came, but as I am here, it falls to me to explain this to you. The legends speak of the Once and Future King and Emrys, the-" Once again, he was cut off.

"Don't call me Emrys!" Merlin bellowed, voice exploding in a sudden burst of fury. "Damn your legends and _damn_ your destiny; I'm tired of what has been foretold. My name is _Merlin_, and Arthur is not just my king, and he's not just my destiny. He's my friend, and I can't lose him!"

"How do you plan to save him then, hmm?" Merlin's face went slack, and the dragon lowered his voice in sympathy. "His heart has been pierced by a mortal blade. Not even you hold the power to stop it from ending his life. His fate is sealed, Merlin. There is no way to stay the approach of death."

Something clicked in Merlin's mind, and he was brought back to another day when Arthur's fate was sealed, and death could not be prevented. He remembered all too clearly the fatal bite of the Questing Beast on Arthur's flesh and the lightning strike that had claimed a High Priestess in Arthur's stead. Nimueh's life had been given to restore balance to nature, and now, once again nature demanded a life. Merlin realized that he had known all along how he would save Arthur. Perhaps he had known his entire life. He stood to face Kilgarrah, his fists clenched and his jaw set in defiance.

"I am, and I always have been, willing to give my life for Arthur's. I know how I will save him."

"Merlin, whatever you're about to do, you must stop and consider-"

"There's nothing to consider! Arthur is on the brink of death, too close to be stopped. Someone must die, and it's going to be me."

"Merlin!" Kilgarrah roared. "This is madness! You have a destiny-"

"My destiny is Arthur." Merlin's voice grew cold, cutting under the dragon's skin like ice. "But this is not about destiny. This is about my friend. I'm not a servant giving his life for a master, or a warlock sacrificing for a king. I am a _friend_, and I care more about Arthur than anything in the world. I can't-" His voice broke with the grief that was threatening to spill from his eyes, "I can't live in a world without him. I'd rather be dead than without Arthur."

The Great Dragon lowered his head so that his eyes were nearly level with Merlin's. He did not want to say what he was about to, but he saw no other way to stop the boy from sacrificing himself; he was loyal to the point of being suicidal. "There are things you do not know about your destiny, young warlock. I understand your grief, but there are powers in the universe greater than life and death that are not to be tampered with."

"I don't want to hear this," Merlin choked. "If you won't allow me to give my life for Arthur's, then you give me no choice." He clenched his fists by his side, and, glaring unyieldingly into the dragon's eyes, began to speak. "Nun de ge dei s'eikein kai emois epe'essin hepesthai! Weas!"

"Merlin! No!" Kilgarrah cried. He tried with all his strength to resist the order, but not even the Great Dragon could defy a dragonlord. He had been ordered to leave, and he had no choice but to obey. The power in Merlin's command spread through his wings as the stretched and beat the air, rebelling against his mind. He kicked off the ground and took off, soaring painfully on his withering wings. As he flew over the shimmering water of Avalon, he spared a final glance at Merlin and sighed heavily. It seemed he would outlive the poor warlock after all, if only by a few hours or days. If Kilgarrah was to die in the coming hours, his greatest regret would be that his final act was to let the boy die.

Merlin did not watch the dragon in flight; as soon as he left the ground, the warlock's attention turned to his king lying motionless on the shore of the lake. Pressing a gentle finger to Arthur's neck, Merlin found a pulse that was soft and slow but did not lack in power. The king may have said his goodbyes, but his body was not ready to stop fighting, and his heart showed that by pumping blood through his veins with as much vigor as it could manage.

The dragon was gone and Arthur remained alive, but Merlin still was unsure of what to do. He knew that the last time he had attempted such a sacrifice, Arthur's life had been restored by drinking from the cup of life. The cup currently resided in the vaults beneath Camelot, but Merlin figured that it's power could be matched by the power of the lake and the magic he possessed himself. He quickly but carefully dragged Arthur's nearly lifeless body towards the water until his lower body was completely submerged, waves lapping at his waist. Merlin knelt in the water beside him, then paused. Before he ended his life, there was something he had to do. He had no ink or parchment, but they were simple items that the warlock, enriched by the power of the lake, could conjure in a moment. He had to be brief; Arthur did not have much time, but Merlin knew it would be unfair to the king to leave like this without saying goodbye.

After a few minutes of writing, Merlin vanished the ink and clutched the finished letter in one hand. He placed the other hand on Arthur's chest, closed his eyes, and began to speak, moving from the Common Tongue to the language of the Old Religion as he spoke. "Arthur, everything I have done, everything I ever do, I do for you. My magic, everything. When I met you all those years ago, you were an arrogant prat with no honor. But I got to know you and...you changed. And I changed. The Great Dragon was right in what he told me not long after we met: that I was one side of a coin, and you were the other. I've learned so much from you, and I know you are not always confident with yourself but believe this: you are-have always been and will always be-the greatest king Camelot has ever seen. Before you closed your eyes, you thanked me for everything I had done for the kingdom and for you. Here is one final favor. I hope you thank me when you wake."

A single tear slipped down his cheek, off his chin, and into the lake. His misty eyes brightened to a brilliant gold as he raised his face to the deep blue sky above and called, "Arthur Pendragon, I give my strength, my spirit, my life to you. I will step into the shadows in your stead. I give you my life!" Merlin's eyes flashed blindingly, and instead of feeling as though his strength was leaving him, he felt filled. His chest was ready to burst from the sudden courage and determination that pulsed through him, coursing through the water around him and into his veins.

He let his magic loose and it flowed from all around him into the hand that rested on Arthur's body. A golden aura grew around the two of them; it was magic in its purest form and the true essence of Merlin's existence. The shimmering light danced over the surface of the lake, drawing power from the water and glowing brighter whenever they touched. The power was overwhelming; Merlin had never felt anything like it before. He felt it pulsating around his body, filling his very existence with more power than he could handle. His magic reacted, burning under his skin until he felt he would burst. The light on the water was blinding, the living magic inside his body and all around him was excruciating, and the power filling him became too much to handle. Merlin let out one final, resilient cry before collapsing into the shallow lake beside his king.

At the very same moment, Arthur's eyes darted open, and he bolted upright in confusion and fear. "Merlin..." he began, peering around hesitantly, "Merlin where...? What's going...Merlin!"

His heart, which he could have sworn had stopped beating moments ago, leaped into his throat; his manservant lay face up and unmoving in the water at his side. His confusion only deepened: wasn't it he who was dying, not Merlin? Arthur grasped the boy's shoulders and shook, desperately urging his friend back into consciousness.

A short distance away, Kilgarrah felt a shift within him, as though a restricting chain had been removed, but from his will, not his body. The force that prevented him from disobeying the young warlock's orders faded until no trace of it remained in the dragon. His heart grew cold, as these feelings could mean only one thing: Merlin had succeeded. The last dragonlord was dead. The moment he realized this, an anguished cry pierced the air. Kilgarrah could not make out the words, but he recognized all too well the sound of a plea and the pain of a fresh loss. No longer bound by the dragonlord's will, the Great Dragon turned in the air and soared back to the lake.

"What have you done? Wake _up_, dammit, you can _not_ be dead. Merlin. Merlin, please, I'm begging you! _Stop_ this. STOP THIS RIGHT NOW AND _WAKE UP_!" Arthur could barely contain his panic as his hands moved over Merlin, combing his hair and searching for a pulse and shaking him in a futile attempt to bring him back.

"Merlin will not wake." Arthur nearly sprang to his feet, startled out of his hysteria by a gentle and deep voice. He turned over his shoulder and started again, for standing on the shore behind him was a massive dragon, unmistakably the same one he had faced in battle years ago.

"You," he cried, "you're alive! But...I killed you."

"That is a story for another day, young king."

"What do you mean he won't wake? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

"Not enough, I'm afraid." The old dragon sighed and took a step closer to Arthur. "I am truly sorry."

"_What has happened here_?" Arthur hissed, the panic rising in his chest once more.

The dragon lowered his head remorsefully before answering, his voice heavy with sorrow and regret, "There has been a sacrifice, young king. A sacrifice...and an exchange."

"This can't be true." He shook his head slowly, feeling the pain of denial set in. "Merlin, you _didn't_." Arthur pushed himself to his knees and leaned over Merlin, feeling the side of his neck with his fingers again and brushing his hands through his black hair. Scalding, seething rage boiled hotter and hotter in his heart and behind his eyes as he worked, growing more and more frantic by the second. "No..._no_..." he muttered under his breath, fighting the anger that threatened to spill from his eyes and throat, until finally he felt a snap. He leapt to his feet, all control fleeing him, and screamed. "Merlin, you IDIOT! How could you do this to me? Did you once THINK about how I would feel? You're so damn _righteous_ and _loyal_, can't you once value your own life? Don't you get it, Merlin? Don't you see? You think you're doing me a bloody _favor_, that I should be _grateful_, but you DONT UNDERSTAND! You _killed yourself_ to keep me alive, and you never once stopped to consider! I DON'T WANT TO BE ALIVE IN A WORLD WITHOUT YOU!"

Exhausted by grief, Arthur collapsed, once again on his knees beside the body of his manservant. He wanted to shake him, scream at him, do _anything_, that held a remote possibility of reviving him, but he knew it would be futile. Instead, he studied the body, as if seeing his friend for the first time.

Merlin's arms and legs were positioned comfortably. The warlock had not died in pain, his muscles were fully relaxed, as though he were merely asleep. Arthur had thought that the gangly servant would look small in death, but he couldn't have been more wrong. There was a deliberation in his limbs, a total lack of fear or weakness in the position he held. The king's eyes moved from Merlin's body to his face, which was the most difficult sight to bear. It was far from peaceful, and unlike his body, it did not suggest a tranquil sleep. The face Arthur had grown to know and cherish for so many years held an expression the king had seen many times before on fallen allies and foes alike. It was a look of fierce determination and loyalty. It was the face of a man who had not wanted death, but chosen it; who had not conquered his foes, but reconciled with them. It was the countenance of a dangerously loyal warrior who would give everything he had and more to the cause for which he fought. Arthur respected Merlin's sacrifice, but he resented it more.

After what felt like an eternity spent studying his fallen friend, Arthur noticed something clenched in the man's fist. He removed it, finding it to be a piece of parchment, covered by the messy scrawl of his servant. _A note? He wrote a bloody note?_ Arthur unfolded the parchment and smoothed out the creases, and began to read.

_Arthur,_

_I thought I'd write this because I figured youse be mad about me giving my life for you without saying goodbye. Well, maybe mad isn't the right word. Maybe there isn't a right word. Anyway, I'll make this brief, as you're dying right now and I haven't got much time. I want you to know there's so much I wish I could've told you about my magic, and everything I've kept from you. I mean it when I say I did it all for you. Although if you're reading this, I guess you understand that now. Also, I want you to know I'm truly sorry. Our relationship has been marked by secrets, and that was wrong. However, don't think that because of these secrets, our friendship has not been genuine. You're my best friend, and I care about you more than you can imagine. But again, if you're reading this, you understand. Finally, I want you to honor a dead man's final wishes, especially since I'm giving my life for you. Tell Gaius and my mother I'm sorry. Tell Gwen, Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, and Leon that they've been incredible friends, and I will cherish their memories beyond the grave. Tell Kilgarrah, should you see him, that I did what had to be done, and I regret nothing. And most importantly, Arthur, move on. Love Gwen with all your heart. Find a new manservant, one who shows up on time. Train with your knights, for yours are the best this land has seen. And most of all, know this: I am giving my life so that you will have the chance to lead Camelot with strength and to build the future I always dreamed of. Mourn me, grieve, I don't care, as long as you can pick yourself back up and honor my sacrifice with pride. Your friendship has meant more to me than I ever imagined it would; more than my life, it would seem. Please, don't blame yourself. Cherish my sacrifice, not as a service from a servant to a master, but as a gift from a friend to a friend. This is my destiny, Arthur, and I wouldn't have it any other way. You thanked me earlier, before you closed your eyes. Now I'll say, you're welcome. _

_Merlin_

Arthur turned his face away from the parchment, not wanting to mar his best friend's final testament with the tears he could no longer contain. Instead, the drops of grief slipped down the king's cheeks and into the cool water of the lake.

He read the note over once more, then looked up, puzzled. "Who's Kilgarrah?"

"That would be me."

"You have a name?" Arthur asked weakly.

"All dragons do."

Arthur glanced down at the parchment, then back up at the dragon's face. "He, er...he said to tell you he did what he had to do." He choked, hardly able to deliver the next three words. "He regrets nothing."

"I wish it were not so," Kilgarrah sighed. "Among the many things the young warlock did not tell you is this: the boy was a dragonlord, the last of his kind."

Arthur shook his head. "Balinor was the last dragonlord."

"And Merlin was his son."

"Oh," Arthur said simply, with very little surprise in his tone. In his grief, he didn't have the energy to be surprised. Instead, he felt hollow, the memory of Balinor bringing him back to something he once told Merlin: "No man is worth your tears." How could he have known that the man was his _father_? _No man is worth your tears_...yet here he was, shedding tear after tear over the lifeless body of a serving boy. Every man was worth his tears, and that was something he had learned from Merlin.

He was brought back to reality by the Great Dragon's heavy sigh. Looking up at the beast, Arthur saw something in those dangerous golden eyes he never expected to see: regret. Was it possible that this dragon, this treacherous creature of magic, was mourning his friend with him?

"You were close, weren't you," Arthur said to the dragon. "You and Merlin. You...cared about him."

"We shared a bond, the warlock and I." Kilgarrah lowered himself to Arthur's level, his mournful eyes matching the king's as he said, "I met Merlin when he was only a boy, soon after he arrived in Camelot. Since that day, I have watched him grow into his powers and his destiny. When Balinor died, we became bonded in a way I had never imagined. The young warlock came to me in his times of greatest need, and I guided him through his destiny. I never wished to see him end this way. I tried to reconcile with him, just before he...Arthur, I could not stop him. I am sorry."

"Why would you try to stop him? If you guided him in his destiny, then why...?"

"There were pieces of his destiny, pieces of _your_ destiny, that I knew, but did not fully understand. I should have told him-"

"_You kept things from him_?"

"-everything, but I was afraid that if he knew, things would be different between the two of you."

"He is _dead_ because of this _destiny_." Arthur's voice had grown soft and cold. "There will be no more secrets."

Kilgarrah straightened and stretched, towering over Arthur. He took a deep breath and prepared to tell the king what he had meant to tell the warlock, before he had been interrupted. "The legends speak of the Once and Future King and Emrys the immortal. The one who passes and the one who stays. The king who dies to rise again and the sorcerer who waits for decades, maybe even centuries, for his return. Your destiny, Arthur, was to die so that in Albion's time of great need, you would return to the world. Merlin's was to survive and to wait, so that when you rose, he would be there to receive you and to aid you in saving Albion. This fate has been foretold for eons, and Merlin has defied it."

Arthur lowered his gaze back to the body beside him in the water. It was the body of a mere servant, a boy who bickered and jested and always kept his master on his toes, a man who had saved the life of the king countless times, a warlock who had possessed unimaginable power and had reversed the course of fate. The king never would have guessed, not the first day they had met and not now, that the young, lively servant, could accomplish such a feat. Not only had he died prying Arthur from the clutches of death, he had done it against the will of nature and destiny.

What astonished him more than the feat itself was the intention. Merlin was willing to defy fate to save his friend. As he said in his note, it was no service from a servant to a master. Arthur knew that Merlin would level a mountain or bring the moon to earth if it would save his friend, but Arthur had never thought he could be that friend. Of all the people in Merlin's life, Arthur was the one he had given his life and his destiny for.

Thinking back to what the dragon said, a question burned in Arthur's mind, "What happens now?"

"I cannot say," the dragon mused. "I only know that in giving his life, Merlin did not transfer his abilities or his destiny to you. I believe that when the time comes, you will die, and when Albion's time comes, you will rise all the same."

"And Merlin?"

"That is unclear. Perhaps he will rise with you, perhaps he will be reborn to carry out his destiny. Perhaps he will not return at all. It could be that he is gone, and you are left to face this fate alone."

Arthur scowled. "That can't be. I will not let that be true. Merlin is too...powerful. When my time comes, I will find him, however difficult it will be. We will face destiny together."

The king gazed at his friend, the water surrounding his lower body and lapping at his chest. "I'll need to bring him back to Camelot."

"That would not be wise. If you intend to find him in the next life, perhaps he ought to rest somewhere undisturbed."

Arthur gazed across the lake and saw, for the first time, an island in the center, with a great stone monument jutting into the misty air. He hadn't realized it before, but there was something special, something _powerful_ about this lake. It was almost like...

"Magic."

Kilgarrah smiled.

"This lake is magic. That's why he brought me here, to heal me."

"The lake of Avalon is a unique place. It is the gateway to the realm of the Sidhe, and in its waters, Merlin has laid several friends to rest."

"Then this is where he will lie. I just don't know how..." Arthur froze; in the water, not far from where he stood, was a boat where none had been before. Undoubtably, the lake had heard his decision and answered, providing the vehicle to Merlin's final resting place.

Arthur reached into the water and slipped his arms around Merlin's limp form. He could not blink back a tear as he lifted the warlock; as strong as he was, his body weighed so little. He gathered Merlin into his arms and strode to the boat, which bobbed gently, inviting the body to lay and sleep. Standing beside the small boat, Arthur slowly and carefully lowered Merlin until he was lying peacefully on his back. Arthur folded his hands across his chest, a warrior's pose in death for the courage Merlin had shown in life. The tears began to fall ceaselessly now, dripping from Arthur's face onto Merlin's, and wetting the warlock's raven hair. Arthur knelt beside the boat and pressed his forehead to Merlin's, letting the water from his eyes slip onto his friend's. "Thank you, Merlin," he whispered, his throat tight and hoarse with grief. Then he stepped back, resting one hand on the side of the boat.

"Be at peace," he choked. Before he could push the boat out into the water, he felt the smooth wood glide out from under his hand, swept up in a current created by the lake. Arthur watched as his best friend drifted toward the magical island, the boat never wavering from its straight path. He brought a hand to his face and let go of his inhibitions, feeling nothing but pure grief fill his body and pour from his eyes. Every painful sob was punctuated by an even more painful realization. He would not return to Camelot with his servant at his side. He would not wake to see the boys impertinent grin. He would not listen to his complaints on every hunt and every patrol. He would not have the chance to ask the warlock all about magic. He would not have Merlin, for as long as he lived.

Arthur was still standing in the water long after the dragon took flight, never to be seen again. His agonized cries did not cease until long after the boat carrying the young warlock disappeared into the mist.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thanks, everyone who read/reviewed/followed/favorited the first chapter, and thanks especially to trustpixiedust for your encouragement. I lied; this is not going to be a one-shot, it's a two-shot. I just couldn't resist writing this brief follow up. Sorry about all the tears, I promise this chapter makes up for it. So again, please review; I really appreciate constructive criticism. Oh, and I forgot to say earlier, I don't own Merlin. Okay, enjoy!**

The old queen's face was stone, gazing across the crystal lake, while the young king sobbed into her sleeve. His older sister, a princess with her father's proud countenance, laid a hand on the teenage boy's shoulder, only adding to the weight that pressed so heavily on the boy king. The shock of losing his father so suddenly had come with a tidal wave of responsibility that he did not feel ready to bear.

"He died bravely, Lohot," Queen Guinevere said to her trembling son, "protecting Camelot so that when your time comes to rule, it will be safe and strong." Nevertheless, she could not stop the tears falling from her chocolate eyes. She had loved her brave husband with all your heart.

"Mother," asked the princess, struggling to hide her grief from her frightened brother, "why are we not burying father with Uther, in the tomb of the great kings? Why are we here?"

Gwen smiled sadly, her eyes fixed on the great stone monument planted on the island at the lake's center. "Blasine, dear, before you were born, before magic was allowed back into Camelot, your father lost...well, he was far more than a friend, but there isn't a word to describe what he was. Your father lost a great friend on the shore of this lake." _Arthur will be with you soon, Merlin. _

Arthur's death happened the way it should have happened all those years ago, on the shore of Avalon. Camelot had been threatened, and Arthur, ever the valiant and noble king, personally led the charge in the battle that eradicated the threat, against the will of his queen and his children. In the battle, he had been wounded fatally. The court physician and the court sorcerer did all they could, but they were not powerful enough to stay the course of destiny as Merlin had. Arthur's time had come, and he accepted it with only one request: that he be laid to rest in the lake of Avalon, so that he may rejoin his friend.

And so on the shore of the lake stood the queen and her children, every member of the court, and much of the population of the lower town, all mourning the passing of a great king, who had given so much to his people in the borrowed time gifted to him by a young warlock. It was the funeral at Avalon that Merlin never had.

The court sorcerer, a middle-aged man man with Druidic symbols tattooed on his arms, strode forward, the king's form limp in his embrace. A boat floated in the water just off the shore, though no one knew how it came to be there. The Druid knelt beside the boat and gently lowered Arthur's proud form into it, folding the king's hands over the sword on his chest before turning to join the crowd.

Gwen rushed forward, unable to contain her grief. "Arthur!" she cried as she dropped to her knees at the boat's side. She stroked his sunny hair, brushing it off his forehead, and studied his closed eyes, lamenting that she would never again gaze into their honest blue. The queen could not know it, but Arthur bore the same proud and determined expression worn by Merlin the day he had died. Gwen kissed his forehead, then his lips, before returning to her children.

"Arthur Pendragon," the sorcerer declared, "son of Uther and Ygraine, husband of Guinevere, father of Lohot and Blasine, king of Camelot. You gave so much to your people and your kingdom. You were a brave king, and a true friend." He stepped forward and raised his hand, his eyes flashing gold as he incanted, "Arthur. _In sibbe gerest._" At his command, the boat began to drift, cutting a path through the water straight to the island.

The crowd gasped in surprise and awe as the entire lake came alive with golden light, waves of pure magic pulsing and dancing across the surface.

"What's happening?" Lohot wondered, his eyes lit up with awe. "Who's doing this?"

Gwen only smiled, her grief replaced by joy. "Merlin," she whispered, "he's here."

Across the lake, on an island shrouded in mist, stood a man and a woman, laughing down to the raven-haired man in the water. "Merlin, you've lit up the whole lake!" the woman giggled.

"Gwen is here, Freya. And his children, god, _look at his children. _Blasine looks just like him, and Lohot has the same posture. That boy will be a great king."

"As great as Arthur?" the man chuckled.

"Yes, Lancelot," Merlin replied.

Freya laughed again, a sound sweeter than birdsong. "Look at yourself, love. The lake is _gold_, all of it! I've never seen you so happy."

"He's never been this happy. You know, Merlin, most people _grieve_ when a loved one dies," Lancelot quipped.

"Grief is for the living," Merlin responded without missing a beat. "I've missed him." He watched the mourners on the shore and let his magic flow, pouring every emotion he'd held for the last twenty years into the water. Emptiness. Despair. Longing. Impatience. Hope. Sorrow. Anticipation. And now, golden tendrils of pure elation bled through his fingers and into the lake.

Suddenly, a dark form broke through the mist. Merlin turned toward Lancelot and Freya, flashing them one last joyful grin before charging forward through the clear water.

"Arthur. Arthur, you're here!" he cried as he waded toward the swiftly approaching boat. When it was close enough, he caught hold of the side and dragged it the rest of the way to the island. "He's here," Merlin panted to his two friends standing on the shore, "Arthur is finally here."

When the bottom of the boat grated against the sandy beach, Lancelot and Freya reached inside, grasping the arms of the form inside the boat and hauling the king to his feet. His eyes were still closed, and he swayed a bit before opening them. Arthur knitted his brow, blinking in the light as he took in his surroundings. When his gaze finally fell on the grinning warlock, his face split into an elated smile. "Merlin!" he cried and tackled his best friend in a bone crushing hug. "Oh my _god_, Merlin!" He untangled his arms from around his friend and grasped the young man's shoulders, studying the face he had seen only in dreams and memories for the last twenty years. Then he laughed, crushing Merlin in another hug. "At last," he whispered.

Merlin's joyful tears wetted Arthur's golden hair. "It's been so long," he laughed into the king's ear. "I missed you too, Arthur."


End file.

Merlin, Angst, Friendship