AN: I actually really liked the last episode of Merlin. I thought it was beautifully done, and I always knew the show had to end with Arthur dying, because his legend is already written, and while they could change things like Merlin's age and the keeping of his magic a secret, they couldn't change something as fundamental to the story as Arthur's death. Arthur's slow acceptance of who Merlin is and all that he's done for Camelot as they traveled was beautiful, and his "thank you" to Merlin before he died made me cry.

What I didn't like was Mordred's story, or the fact that magic never actually became free under Arthur's rule. It felt like the only thing Arthur and Merlin actually accomplished together was to get the same sort of peace that Uther had. In other words, they fought off some major enemies, but Arthur still put magic users to death, and Merlin made increasingly terrible decisions on the road to Arthur's end. It was terribly frustrating. I didn't get the sense at all that Arthur had achieved a Camelot worthy of the legends it became. So, I decided to give Arthur another chance to make things better. The full extent of his second chance will become more clear as the story progresses.

Arthur could feel his last strength fading as Merlin tried to drag him the last few miles to the lake. He knew they would not make it, in spite of the muttered, desperate assurances of his loyal sorcerer. Even if the horses had not run off, Arthur would not last much longer, and the lake was still far away. Besides, even if they made it, they had no assurance that the Sidhe would help. Those creatures bore no love for Pendragons. When one of them stumbled, Arthur knew not which of them it was, and they fell over, Arthur knew he would not get up again. He could hardly feel his legs anymore, let alone walk on them. Still, his manservant was still speaking, still trying to evade the inevitable.

"Just… just… just hold me," Arthur said, each word a struggle. He patted Merlin's hand where it held him tightly around the middle, supporting him as Merlin had always supported him. With what little strength he had left, he turned to face Merlin. Fleetingly, he wished that he could be in Gwen's arms for his last moments, but that thought passed. It seemed far more right that he would die here, in the arms of the one man who had never given up faith in him and had, it turned out, given everything he was just to see Arthur succeed. "There's something I want to say."

Merlin glared at him. "You're not going to say goodbye." So typical. Even when Arthur was on the very brink of death, Merlin still tried to tell him what to do.

"No." Arthur took a deep breath. He had to say this before he lost the strength. "Everything you've done… I know now…for me… for Camelot. I want to say," he was choking now, could barely get the words out, but he was determined to say this last bit, "something I've never said to you before." He reached his hand up behind Merlin's head, making sure his dearest friend was looking right into his eyes, hoping that Merlin could see how truly he meant these words. "Thank you."

With that, Arthur let his head fall back and his eyes fall closed. The darkness was creeping towards him now, promising warmth and peace. Distantly, he heard something like roaring coming from Merlin's mouth, but perhaps that was just the sound of death in his ears. He had not quite faded fully, however, when he felt the ground tremble a few minutes later as something huge landed next to them. Dim awareness of being dragged onto a great figure seeped through the grey haze around his mind, and a moment later he felt as though he were hurtling swiftly through the air far above the ground. He wondered if his dying moments were bringing him fever dreams, because he could have sworn he was riding a dragon. An image of a white dragon, commanded by the sorcerer (by Merlin) on the hill during the battle, came into his mind. The dragon beneath him seemed bigger though, and somehow far more ancient.

He must have slipped entirely out of consciousness, because the next thing he knew, Merlin was holding him up, screaming at the beast in front of them, and there was pain in his voice. The words, "I cannot lose him! He is my friend!" filtered down to him as though from far away. "Don't worry my friend," he wanted to say, though his voice seemed not to work. "I am looking forward to some peace." That was the last he knew, before everything went black.

The next thing Arthur knew, he was blinking into early morning sunlight as Merlin moved about his chambers in Camelot, preparing his things for a new day as though nothing had happened. 'We must have made it to the Sidhe after all,' Arthur thought, marveling at the lack of pain in his side. Why, he felt stronger than he had in ages. Even his ever-present bone-deep weariness from the past year was gone. He closed his eyes again and breathed deep, pleased when he felt no remaining twinges of pain beneath his ribs. He wondered how long he had been out. It had likely been at least a few days; Gwen had been nowhere to be seen, and he knew that she would not have left his side once he was returned to the castle, until royal duty forced her away.

"Time to get up, Sleepyhead!" Merlin's cheerful voice broke through Arthur's reverie, and he opened his eyes to see Merlin's beaming face above his own. The servant-sorcerer bounded away as soon as he saw that Arthur was awake. "I've brought you your breakfast, polished your armor, and gotten you up at a decent hour today."

Arthur was bemused at Merlin's behavior. "I'm glad you're in such a cheerful mood," he said, genuine affection lacing his voice. He could not remember the last time Merlin had seemed this carefree.

Merlin paused in his leaping about to stare at Arthur. The King couldn't be sure, but he thought it was surprise that lit his friend's eyes. Those eyes were quickly shuttered, though, as Merlin flashed him a cheeky grin and replied, "I didn't realize his Royal Prattiness cared about his lowly servant's moods! Anyways, your breakfast is on the table along with all you important papers for today. I'll be back later after I've got some water for Gaius from the well."

With that, Merlin exited the room, leaving a befuddled Arthur in his wake. Something strange was going on. Merlin had not stuck around to answer a single question, in spite of the fact that he must know Arthur would be anxious for news of his kingdom, and especially of his wife. He hoped Guinevere had done alright while he was ill.

They also needed to properly discuss Merlin's magic. Now that they were back in Camelot, he could only guess that Merlin had gone back to hiding. Lifting the ban on magic was clearly something Arthur should have done long ago, something that could, perhaps, have saved countless people so much unjust heartache, but he could remedy that now. At least, he could remedy that once he knew how everything else was going, which would happen faster if his manservant wouldn't run out on him.

Shaking his head in fond annoyance, Arthur finally took the chance to really look around his room. Sunlight streamed through the open window near his bed, illuminating the room. On a table near the door lay a steaming plate of food next to a goblet, with several papers lying near. Overall, there was something strange about the room. Several of his things were not in the right places, but there was something bigger than that that he could not quite put his finger on. It was several more moments before he realized what was so disorienting.

None of Guinevere's things were in the room. Her beautiful oak wardrobe, which had stood beside his ever since their wedding day several years ago, was missing, as were the slippers that often sat beside her side of the bed during the day. He knelt down and checked under the bed, just in case, but they were not there either. None of the little touches that his queen had added to their rooms remained, either, from the small vases of flowers she liked to have around, to the embroidered curtains she had replaced his more utilitarian ones with shortly after they married.

Suddenly, the room seemed less homey and welcoming, and more suspicious and suffocating. He felt like he had woken unwittingly in the midst of some strange trap.

He knew that Gwen had to be okay. Merlin would not have been in such a good mood if something had happened to the Queen. He couldn't see Gwen moving into another room, either. Surely, she would have wanted to stay near him whenever she could.

Perhaps he had needed space to heal properly? The excuse sounded weak to his own ears.

Even the sunlight glancing off the hard stone walls seemed treacherous as Arthur made his way slowly towards his table. It was not the same table he had used the past few years, he realized, the old oak monstrosity he had taken from his father's room when he took the crown. Instead, it reminded him more of the table he had once used years ago, when he was but a prince. Nothing about this was right.

Something was dreadfully wrong. Merlin had been so cheerful earlier, implying that things were well in Camelot, but what if it was some sort of plot? It couldn't be a plot from Merlin, though. He knew without a doubt that Merlin was his friend and probably the most loyal man he had ever encountered. His doubts about Merlin had been completely turned to unfettered trust by the end of their journey to Avalon. There was no way that the man who had given so much and asked for so little in return, just to help Arthur, was plotting something evil.

He spun towards the door at the sound of hurried steps in the corridor.

This was not right! The memory of Merlin before he left the room rose in Arthur's mind. Now that he gave it more thought, that had not been right, either. Merlin had looked ever so slightly off.

The footsteps drew closer to the door, and Arthur looked around frantically for some weapon. He cursed his lack of sword. Its weight was conspicuously absent from his side, and now even that seemed sinister.

At the last moment, he grabbed the goblet from the table, spilling its contents all over the floor and holding it out in front of him like a shield.

Merlin rounded the door and skidded to a stop, staring in clear surprise at Arthur, standing still in his nightclothes in the middle of his room with a goblet in hand and a puddle of wine around his feet. Arthur dropped the goblet in shock, finally understanding why everything was so wrong, but it was impossible.

Merlin was younger.

Far away, in a dark cave beneath the earth, Nimueh slammed another book shut with a growl. Something had caused a great explosion of magic in Camelot, and none of her ancient knowledge gave her a clue as to what it was. In this last book, she had finally come across something that may hold the key.

There were druidic prophecies tied to Arthur, the Once and Future King, but they also spoke of one named Emrys, Immortal in the druidic language, who would stand beside Arthur and help him achieve everything the prophecies foretold. She had suspected for a while now that Arthur's young manservant had far more powerful magic than anyone guessed, though she had still thought herself more than a worthy match for the boy. If he was this Emrys, than it was likely that he was responsible for whatever she had sensed. Whatever he had done, she must find out. This new development threw a kink in her plans that she had no idea what to do with. She was not used to being taken by surprise.

Even farther away, beyond Ealdor in Cenred's kingdom, Morgause sat deep in thought in Cenred's library. The burst of magic she had felt this morning was beyond anything she had experienced in many years. It was as ancient a feeling as the Old Religion itself. Cenred's books had been of no help to her, but she had finally made up her mind on a course of action. She would have to put her plans in motion earlier than expected, before the cause of that magical blast did something to ruin them entirely.

A part of her wondered if her sister had been the cause, though such power was far beyond anything Morgause had ever hoped for Morgana. That would be a fair boon, if Morgana was so powerful, though it would also put that foul excuse for a king, Uther, onto her scent sooner than she hoped. "I am coming for you, sister," she said, her whisper swallowed into the dark, dusty books around her. "If that was you, then you shall be greater than even I had imagined, and someday you will be the ruler of Camelot and teach those Pendragons the meaning of fear and magic!"