The Cure
(A fluffy Remedy for 505)
Merlin knew he should feel guilty and miserable about his failure to fulfill his fate, but as much as there were moments in which he completely lost faith, they did not last.
Not when he could see Gwen's smile, happy to have her husband back unharmed.
Not when he could see Arthur's eyes shine as he ruled the matters of the kingdom, feeling safe in his own land.
Not when Leon's son could now learn to ride without fear of being attacked by a sorcerer, his father proudly by his side.
Not when Gaius patted his shoulder, praising his work.
Not when Gwaine was not fully healed from his encounter with the magical forces, back to his beloved mead jug.
Not when Elyan would smile at him and ask for tips on how to cook to impress a girl that caught his eye.
Not when Percival would stop patrolling to pretend he was a monster and play with the children of the lower town, roaming around free.
Not when Mordred held his arm and said he understood, forgiving him with an open smile.
He just couldn't bring himself to feel the burden, not when the result was peace, happiness, friendship, loyalty and love being spread all over Camelot.
And yes, it must come to an end, but that was true of all things, so he shouldn't blame himself for the natural cycle of life.
He had done his best, and he would continue to do so, whatever the result, for he knew he made it out of love – not only duty, as he had said, but honest, full, pure, love for all the people around him; people that were now secure because of his sacrifices, and that was worthy everything.
Their happiness was the only consolation he needed.